


Flowers by the Wayside

by TalaRae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Multi, Rare Pairings, Sexual Content, Slow Romance, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 149,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalaRae/pseuds/TalaRae
Summary: After her husband is unfaithful and her cookie-cutter perfect world is turned on its head, Petunia Evans Dursley finds herself in her old hometown, full of regrets and feeling that her life has been without purpose. Before she can quietly take her own life, she is given an impossible offer by a long-dead figure from the magical world: return to the past, and rewrite her own history. Seeing it as a chance to make up for her biggest regret, Petunia accepts and finds herself in the middle of a Wizarding war she knew little about, protecting the younger sister she tried to forget by seeking help from the one person in the magical world she knows how to find.A what-if story beginning in the latter years of the first war against Voldemort, where an unlikely alliance turns into an even more unlikely romance, and the bonds that bloom from it will change the course of Wizarding history.
Relationships: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody/Regulus Black, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Petunia Evans Dursley/Severus Snape
Comments: 772
Kudos: 979





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be added as needed. This is a mostly adult story written by an adult - as such please proceed with caution. It's really rather tame, but there will be strong language /sexual content /violence from time to time. Please do read the tags and the content warnings before each chapter! 
> 
> Dedicated to my new friends at Snurch - thank you all for being so encouraging and helping me to write again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: there is a suicide attempt and general suicidal ideation in this chapter. Please proceed with caution!

* * *

_1 st June, 2003 – Cokeworth, The Midlands, England _

The little park on the hill that divided the proper side of Cokeworth from the grubby neighborhoods closer to the dirt-choked water had been untouched by time to Petunia’s eyes, the weeds still pushing their way through the unshorn grasses as they had in her youth, the chain links on the swing set still rusting and creaking and looking as though one good breeze could pull them down.

It seemed like the only thing that had changed here in the many years since she left it for good was her. Or perhaps she hadn’t changed at all, and the world had changed around her.

And that, perhaps, was the problem to begin with.

A warm breeze caught her ash-blonde hair and blew it into her long, thin face. She’d let it go a bit longer these days, thinking it made her look more youthful. Vernon had made an offhand comment that it was pleasant to look at it that way, and so she had dutifully continued to let it grow till it reached her shoulders again. She had done a great many things to please him over their twenty-five years of marriage, for all the good it had done her in the end.

With a little sigh she seated herself on one of the rusting swings, ignoring the ear-splitting groan of the weathered rubber and rickety chains from her weight being added. When she closed her eyes, she could still hear the soft giggles of that tramp from Vernon’s firm, and the creaking of their mattress springs. He hadn’t even had the decency to sleep with another woman in some other place, sneaking the twenty-something into their home while Petunia was supposed to be on a day trip out to visit Dudley. Instead, she’d forgotten her handbag and turned around. It had only been half an hour – thirty bloody minutes, he couldn’t even wait a full hour’s time for her to be gone – when she returned in time to overhear THAT from the stairs.

Wincing at her memories from earlier that day, Petunia reached a hand up to touch the reddened welt on her face, the sting and the sharp thwack of flesh on flesh etched into her mind. She’d been near hysterics, all but frothing with rage when she slammed open their bedroom door. The moments after went in a blur; a flash of pink lace from the secretary’s risqué nightie, a glimpse of pert breasts swaying as the younger woman leapt from the bed, and the sight of Vernon’s eyes bulging out in alarm at being caught as he struggled to pull his pants from where they hung precariously on the bedpost.

Petunia couldn’t recall what words she had even been saying when Vernon’s hand flew at her face. But she could recall the gasp from the secretary who cowered in the corner with the quilt held to her front. And she could recall Vernon’s insistence that he had done nothing wrong in striking her, his growling voice as he claimed “You gave me no choice, Petunia! I didn’t want to strike you but you must get a hold of yourself!”. And she could recall her own little noise of pain, a small discordant half-squeak, half-groan that marked the moment her perfect, normal life became one of those perfect household dramas that she had so loved to make snide remarks about when gossiping to her other neighbors.

What would they in turn say about her now, she wondered? Would Emma and Jean whisper about her over their garden fences as they looked over at Number Four? How could she even show her face at the market, or the shopping district?

She couldn’t show her face, she realized. And what was she even supposed to do in response to something like this? In her mother’s time, it would have been expected that a woman turn herself away and ignore her husband’s infidelity, chalking it to her wifely duty to simply indulge the breadwinner. Up till about an hour ago, midway through her silent drive to her hometown, Petunia thought of herself as the sort of woman who would do just such a thing, keeping her perfect façade up at all times, and keeping the neighbors out of her private affairs. Divorce was unthinkable, unspoken of even now.

Petunia chanced a gentle sway on the aging swing set, pushing off with her sensible navy-blue flats and noting without truly caring that she had just gotten a few spots of mud on their fronts. It was remarkable how little she cared, or felt at all. The anger had gone out of her at the same time as Vernon’s hand had fallen upon her, along with the other emotions she might have felt. In the last few years since her Dudley had moved out and settled into his own little life with a nice girl from a good, normal family, she had attempted to fill the unsettling emptiness with her old comforts of gossip and entertaining guests. And it worked for a short time.

Or at least, she had told herself it had. Sitting here now with the breeze still flowing around her, the hollowness returned and she swore she could hear it in the whisper of the foliage, _you were never as clever, never as pretty, never as wanted, never as loved…_

No. She wasn’t. She knew that already. But for over twenty years, she had convinced herself that she was just as good – better, even – than her precious little sister just by virtue of her normality and the fact that she hadn’t gotten herself killed like Lily had. But in her short life, Lily had been part of something great, hadn’t she? That’s how her nephew and the people like him said it. Lily was some sort of heroic figure, some freak legend with a statue of herself and her arrogant husband near her grave. Petunia had come to realize in the past hour that she hadn’t left her own mark on anything like that.

She shook her handbag free of her shoulder, and swept her hand into its folds till it came up with the small pill bottle, full of the anxiety medication her doctor had prescribed her for her nerves when they returned from their life in hiding during that last year of nastiness with that group of Wizard supremacists. It was a fresh refill, at least a month’s worth. She figured that after the first little handful she would be too blissful to feel much else, they were quite fast acting after all. Another few swallows to empty the bottle, and then perhaps she would kick off her flats and let the tall grass tickle her feet. She could enjoy the sunset like she used to do with Lily when they were still silly little girls talking about what actors they fancied, playing princesses and explorers in this same place.

And then perhaps she would finally see Lily again and give her a stern talking to for daring to die before her and leaving her with a second infant to raise. Yes, she would see Lily again and she would give her the lecture she ought to have given before she married that Potter boy. She would see her Lil again, wouldn’t she? Petunia didn’t actually know if wizards went to the same afterlife, or if the virtue of their abnormal powers damned them from the onset. There were so many things she didn’t know about Lily and her kind. She had been too concerned with appearing unconcerned to ask.

Petunia unscrewed the thick white plastic cap from the bottle and poured a measure of the tiny yellow oblong pills into the palm of her hand, cupping them carefully and tipping them into her mouth as one might do to a handful of crisps or miniature sweets. It was difficult to swallow them all at once, but swallow them she did.

Her thoughts again went to the neighbors. How long would it take someone to find her and figure who she was? She swallowed another small handful, pausing to look at the light fading from the sky as the sun set over the poor side of town which sat mostly abandoned now. Was this really worth leaving everything behind for? Well what was the alternative for her, go back and let Vernon explain away his affair and make it her fault? Refuse his non-apology and separate? Then what? She had no skill outside of her homemaking and nothing else to fall back on. The emptiness she fought so hard to fill had never been filled with anything, the fullness was a phantom masquerading as a life with purpose. The pain had always been there, but she had found ways to lie to herself about it.

Petunia felt a pang of guilt as her son came to mind, her sweet Diddykins who needed her still – surely, he must’ve. What boy didn’t need his mother? Again, Lily came into her mind unbidden as did her waif of a nephew – the nephew she mistreated in her twisted jealousy. The boy had nothing to do with his mother’s perfection, or the Evans sisters’ falling out. The regrets swirled round her in a sequence, like the flower petals that her little Lil used to move with just a thought.

She lay her head against one of the rusting chains, and her eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

The sound of a tea kettle’s shrill whistle broke the stillness and roused Petunia from her stupor. Startled, she sat up and found herself settled into a large plush armchair of burgundy leather. She had no recollection of anything beyond closing her eyes what felt like hours before.

“Ah, Miss Petunia. You’ve finally woken. Please, do not be alarmed.”

Petunia turned towards the source of the voice, and found a familiar looking old man in loudly patterned purple robes patterned with blue stripes and golden stars. The twinkle in his sharp blue eyes matched the stars, which in turn matched his gold-rimmed half moon spectacles.

“You’re dead. My nephew said as much years ago.” She eyed him cautiously, sliding further back into the butter-soft leather of the chair. Wherever she was, she had no idea why this man was here right now. Had she not taken enough of the pills? Was she in a deep sleep, or a coma even? She was certain that there was no way that she would have ended up in a place with Lily’s kind.

Albus Dumbledore smiled down as kindly as he could at her, pouring a cup of piping hot tea for Petunia with the kettle he pulled from the heating plate. The fragrant scent of rosehip and hibiscus wafted from the delicate white and pink floral printed china cup.

“Yes, Miss Petunia. I most certainly am. But you, dear girl – you are not quite yet. And that is precisely why we are here to have a conversation. Please do take a drink, I believe you will find this blend particularly pleasant. Perhaps paired with an iced lemon cake?” The old man gestured with a knobby hand to the tray of stacked pastries just beside the tea service.

Still believing herself to be in a dream, Petunia nonetheless reached forward and took the cup and saucer into her hands. The porcelain felt warm to her touch. She settled uneasily back against the chair and looked around the room. It was a charming little tea shop from the look of it, cozy and inviting and decorated in more burgundy with golden trim, dark wood grain for the furniture. It looked so strangely familiar, down to the armchairs and the little circular tables, with flowers as a running motif.

Petunia turned her eyes back to the strange old wizard who had seated himself across the table. “Where am I? And why is this tea shop so familiar? I’m certain I’ve never been any place like it.”

“Do you not recall the dream you once shared with your younger sister? My dear, I am so sorry that you seem to have lost that spark you once held. Wherever has that little girl gone who so dearly wanted to attend school with her best friend?”

“Don’t mock me you old loon! That was your fault that I couldn’t be with-” she cut herself off as the first part of the headmaster’s statement sank in. The dream she once shared with Lily…how could she have ever forgotten such a thing? It had been all they talked about once, a thing they chattered on about into the late hours of the night when they were supposed to be sleeping.

_“We’ll make a teashop, Tuney!” Lily had whispered with a giggle. “Petunia and Lily’s Petal Parlor!”_

_“Yes, we will,” Petunia would reply, stifling her own laughter of joy at their little dream, “and we’ll serve the finest tea in all of Britain, and Prince Charles himself will come to visit!”_

Dumbledore was still looking at her with that frustrating twinkle in his eyes, like he was holding a private joke and waiting for her to catch on to it as well.

“…what’s happening? Have I died and now I’m stuck between? Or is this some sick magic joke that your kind likes to play on normal people like me?” she hissed at him.

He shook his head and sipped his own cup of tea. “No, Miss Petunia. You have not died – yet. Nor do “my kind” as you so call us do this sort of thing. Not without severe repercussion. You are however in a place between. Neither dead nor fully alive. But that is why I am here as well.”

Though still not trusting that this wasn’t a trick, she took a sip of the tea in her hand. Begrudgingly she admitted to herself that it tasted as good as it smelled. She waved a hand to prompt Dumbledore to continue speaking. He nodded and obliged.

“You have several strong regrets, it would seem. The strongest of which is tied to your sister. I quite understand, you see. I too made mistakes where my younger siblings are concerned. My little sister in particular is the source of perhaps my first and most painful mistake. I know intimately well the pain of losing a sister that you tried to forget.”

The pain in the old wizard’s voice sounded sincere enough that Petunia found herself feeling bad for him, to a degree. His words cut her to the core regardless, as she thought of her falling out with Lily, and all the times she pushed her away and insisted that she couldn’t stand her any longer.

“So, you can empathize with my mistake. What of it?”

“Though you may not think yourself particularly talented Miss Petunia, I can assure you that you are most certainly special. And not mending the rift between you was a particular regret of your sister’s, right to the day she died. You felt enough about her to have sent a vase for Christmas once-”

“I hated that vase, it was hideous.” She interjected.

Once again that amused and knowing smile was fixed on her, but Dumbledore shook his head gently and moved past this statement with a chuckle. “Nonetheless, you loved your sister to the last. And love is the most powerful force in life or death. That love between the pair of you is stronger than either of you realized. And because of it, I am here to offer you a choice.”

Petunia took another sip of her tea, looking at him over the rim of the cup. “Is this where you tell me I can go back to life and start over as a new woman? Leave Vernon and move to London and start again like this is some awful made-for-telly movie? That is hardly a choice.”

“You were partially correct. You can go back to the living world, but not in the way you think. Either way, this current timeline has run its course for you. Should you decide to cross forward, away from this place between, then you shall leave the living world behind for the place beyond. Should you decide that you would like to return to the living world, then you have the unique opportunity that many a person wishes they could have: the chance to return to the past, and rewrite your history.”

Cup hit saucer with a clatter as she set it down far harder than intended. “A chance to _what_?”

The twinkle was finally out of his eyes, and the former headmaster looked deadly serious. “It is rather much to take in, I am sure. But we are fast running out of time for you to decide. There are a number of lives that you can even save this time – including Lily’s.”

It didn’t sound real. It could not have possibly been real, she told herself. But a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that in another lifetime, she never would have believed that her sister floating onto the ground from a swing set was real either. Or her brother in law turning into a giant stag was possible. Or that any number of magical things that she knew WERE real could happen at all.

As Petunia let a small sliver of hope and possibility plant itself in her heart, she felt a cold and sour rush fill her to the core as if she had drunk ice-cold lemonade much too fast on a warm day.

“You must feel it by now, the separation of your soul from your physical form. I do hate to rush you, Petunia. But there is only so much even a wizard can do when a higher power is involved.” He reached into his robes and produced what appeared to be a small hourglass, with shining silver sands almost like a morning mist within. The glass itself was slowly freezing over, the gold chain from which it dangled laced with tendrils of frost.

As if drawn of its own accord, her left hand reached forward for the strange device. The cold in her torso was spreading up to her chest.

He pulled the hourglass pendant back towards himself a bit. “It will not be easy I must caution you. There are still great risks. And you will be placed back in a time of rising chaos. You must be brave, Petunia. And you must not be who you are, but who you need to be.”

“I’ve had forty-five years to be who I am and I am quite tired of it, thank you kindly!” she spat as the cold rose into her throat. Whatever it was, she knew it was not a good feeling and it frightened her.

The wizard nodded sagely, smiling at her as he turned the hourglass over, and pressed it against her palm. An unnatural warmth suddenly ran down her arm into the rest of her body, spreading from fingertips to toes and banishing the cold. The silver mist burst forth from within, and enveloped her body, pulling her from the chair and cocooning her in light and warmth in mid-air.

“I look forward to seeing you again in a new life, Miss Petunia. I wonder who you will be.”

The last thing that Petunia saw was the soft smile and twin trails of tears running down the cheeks of the old man and into his beard before the light became blinding, and she once more gave herself over to nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this! I appreciate and welcome any comments or feedback.
> 
> -TR


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings for this chapter. There is a mild anxiety attack that is described, but that's about it. I'll do my best to provide warnings at the start of subsequent chapters if needed. -TR

* * *

_23 rd December, 1977 – Cokeworth, the Midlands, England_

“Petunia…Tuney? Wake up, Tuney. Dinner’s nearly ready.”

The familiar warmth of Lily’s voice pulled Petunia out of the emptiness for the second time that…day? She had no sense of time or reality at all, still wrapped in the dizzying sensation of light and warmth from whatever Dumbledore had done to her with that strange little toy of his.

“Are you alright, Petunia? You look a bit green.”

Lily Evans was standing before her elder sister in the parlor of her childhood home, auburn locks spilling over her shoulders. She nervously smoothed down the hem of her plain yellow frock as she looked down at Petunia with concern. She even had the audacity to look hale and hearty, as if she hadn’t been dead and buried somewhere in West Country with a gaudy statue over her grave for the past twenty-three years.

But that was exactly it, Petunia realized with a painful lump in her throat. This Lily hadn’t died or been buried. This Lily was young and vibrant and very much _alive_. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she decided that if this was some sick wizards’ joke, it certainly felt real enough at the moment. Before she was even aware of what she was doing, Petunia had shot up from the armchair in the parlor like a coiled spring let loose, and thrown her arms around her little sister’s shoulders.

Lily made a squeak of surprise, but still wrapped her slender arms around Petunia’s waist in a mix of confusion and delight. “Tuney? What’s gotten into you so suddenly?”

“Nothing, Lily. I’m just…just pleased to see you.” Petunia managed to croak out, sniffling. When was the last time she had hugged her sister? It was certainly well before she was engaged to Vernon. No, far earlier even than that she realized in dismay. It may have been the day that Dumbledore’s rejection letter arrived, sealing her fate as the “other sister”, the non-magical non-special sister. Literal decades had passed since the last time Petunia had even hugged her sister.

“But you only just saw me two hours ago.” Lily laughed, and it filled the room like gentle music.

Petunia shook her head and finally allowed herself to let go and step back. A glance around the room showed it as it always had been, modest but comfortable, well decorated with photos of both girls, together when they were younger and then separate as they reached their teens. And their teen years were where the timeline given by the photographs currently stopped. How old was she right now? What year was this? A wave of panic started to turn her stomach, and she fought to quell it.

“What day is it, Lily?”

Lily’s brows furrowed, but she still answered. “It’s the twenty-third. Only two days till Christmas! And only one day till our double date. …we are still on for the double date tomorrow evening, aren’t we? James has been looking forward to finally meeting you. And your fiancé too.”

The older Evans was silent as things started to settle into place a little better. Her mind still reeling, she tried to take a breath and stop to parse out what she could from the information she had just been given.

She was engaged to Vernon, so she had to be nineteen still, and Lily was just shy of eighteen. That made the year 1977. It was near Christmas, which meant Lily was home on holiday break from her strange school, and she was on holiday herself from the office and had driven in from London to be with her family. She had yet to meet James Potter. They were supposed to meet up at some café in town and it - was going to be a complete an utter disaster. Vernon would dislike James from the start, despite James’ efforts to be kind. He would misunderstand James’ attempts to find common ground as some sort of put on. Both she and Lily would grow more and more agitated till Vernon insulted both Lily AND James. And then she and Vernon would storm out of the café with Lily in tears behind them –

Petunia set her jaw firmly. The thought of Vernon still made her sick to her stomach, but now a flash of anger coursed through her gut instead of the numb sorrow of before. He had been unfaithful. He had been indignant about it, unashamed of his infidelity, and worst of all he had struck her. Her empty marriage – it was always empty she was fast coming to realize – was ending one moment and now here it was about to start all over again. Or maybe it wasn’t.

“Yes, Lily. We’re still having the dinner date tomorrow.”

Relief flickered across the younger girl’s face. “Oh good.”

They then lapsed into an awkward silence. Petunia remembered rather uncomfortably that she and Lily had been on very poor terms since the younger had started at Hogwarts, but this particular year had been the worst of all. Yet here she was talking to Lily so calmly and she had hugged her, and this was likely very abnormal behavior for her in her sister’s eyes. But she couldn’t well tell Lily she had just died and been sent back into her teenage self. _Wasn’t there some sort of rule in the films about interfering like that?_ she asked herself. She didn’t want to take the chance on breaking some untold rule, or risk sounding like she was completely barmy.

Even as she was telling herself to try to act more normal, Petunia was also recalling Dumbledore’s words to her shortly before she was whisked away. _You must not be who you are._ Being who she had been before had led her to a pill bottle in a park. She resolved to try something different. She took a breath and looked back to her sister, and tried to pick up a thread to spin back into a conversation. “You said dinner was nearly ready? Did you already set the table for mum?”

The guilty look on Lily’s face said that no, she hadn’t.

“You know we don’t have any of that ridiculous enchanted dishware here, Lily. Some of us have to actually do work. With our hands, like normal people.” The words sounded like something she would be expected to say, but with none of the venom that she was expected to say it with.

Hearing Petunia even mention magic in passing apparently had Lily over the moon. Or maybe it was having Petunia talk to her at all that had her so pleased, even if it had been to chide her. Whatever the reason, Lily had a noted bounce in her step as she led the way into the dining room and over to the china closet to pull down the dishes for the evening.

“We haven’t got enchanted dishware at school! Well actually I suppose we probably technically do because the food has to appear on them somehow, but it’s the house elves who are doing the real work of cooking up the meals and then sending them up to our tables.”

She couldn’t recall if Lily’s emerald eyes had always been so alive when she talked about her kind and how her little magical world worked. Really Petunia had spent so much of that time period ignoring her altogether, having moved a fair distance away not too long after this point in time.

Reaching for the salad plates, Petunia made a little sound of annoyance as Lily grabbed too many of the heavy dinner plates at a time and caused an awful clatter. There was another brief pause as Lily sheepishly winced and turned to set the heavy stack down. Petunia rolled her eyes and turned to set down the smaller salad plates before pushing forward again into their slow and casual conversation.

“…House elves? What the devil are those? Don’t you just wag that little stick of yours at everything and say some nonsense words to make things happen?”

Lily laughed again, and the honeyed sound of it sparked an ember in her, stoking the fire of affection that had lain near-dead inside of Petunia’s heart for many years. They had been best friends once, a lifetime ago. No matter how far down she had tried to bury it, Petunia knew that she never stopped loving her little sister. The hardness around her heart had only just begun to soften in the recent years, especially after Harry had kept them safe despite their treatment of him over the years. There was still much pain and jealousy she needed to work through. But she had decided she ought to start somewhere, if this was actually happening and not simply some feverish dream.

“House elves are little creatures that work for wizards. Like servants really. Some of the really old and wealthy families have got them at home, like tiny little butlers. And a wand is really only a tool to help you focus your magical core, at least that’s how my Charms professor says it and-” Lily seemed to realize all at once that she was going rather in depth and her sister was actually _listening to it._ “You’re sure you’re not ill, Petunia? Because you’ve not sounded like yourself since you woke up from your nap in the parlor and you hate this stuff. I’m getting concerned now.”

Petunia must’ve had a very sour look to her face, because Lily immediately reversed course and busied herself with setting out the rest of the flatware as Petunia opened the drawer to pull out the simple white linen napkins.

“Right, well, enough about me! How’s life in the big city been? We’ve not chatted in ages it feels like! Tell me all about it. About your flat, about the firm, and your fiancé’s job.”

“You can’t possibly care about all that. It’s all perfectly boring and perfectly normal everyday life.” Petunia couldn’t quite keep the bitter edge out of her voice, even now. One did not simply forget a jealousy that deep in one near-death or full-death experience, no matter how much one missed their sister and regretted things. Perhaps it was better that way, since it seemed more authentic.

Lily exhaled a very soft sigh and looked to her sister with a small, sad smile. “Just because I’m not “normal” anymore doesn’t mean I’m not your sister, Tuney. I still care about your life. I still care about you. Being a witch doesn’t make me love you any less. I’ve been trying to tell you that…”

Petunia wasn’t at all sure what to say to something like that. She felt the churning emotions roiling in her stomach yet again as she struggled to process Lily’s gentle truthfulness. To her gratitude, her mother came bustling into the room a moment later carrying a large tureen full of lamb stew. Petunia stared at the woman a long moment – her mother had been dead and gone for longer than Lily had, the victim of a car crash. It had still been so fresh on her mind when Lily had died less than a year after the crash that she used it as a simple excuse to Harry for why his parents were also dead and gone.

Their mother set the stew down in the center of the table, looking thoroughly vexed. “Petunia, Lily, be darlings for mummy and fetch the buns and the salad and the mash would you? I’ve got to help your father; he’s dropped the ladder and gone and got himself stuck on the roof. Told him to call a ruddy professional but he insisted on trying to patch the bloody thing himself!”

The girls looked at each other as their mother left the room again, and for whatever reason they found themselves giggling at their father’s misfortune. Petunia had truly forgotten how good it felt to laugh, especially at such a silly thing. She still wasn’t even sure WHY she had started to laugh. It just felt natural and bubbled up from within her, a hidden spring of mirth that she hadn’t felt in an eternity. She started to think that maybe she could do this after all. Maybe it wasn’t awful, being a teenage girl again.

“Come on then, Lily. We had better do as she asked before she puts us up there instead and leaves us on purpose. I don’t want you to have to do any of your funny business to fly us down.”

Still giggling and surprised that Petunia even remembered what a joke was anymore, Lily followed her sister into the kitchen. For a moment, it felt like things had never changed between them.

* * *

It was later that same night, when she was laying alone in her old bed staring at the ceiling, that the panic started to seize Petunia and the anxiety attack began in earnest.

Struggling to breathe with the weight of it, she sat up and pushed the quilt off to the floor, curling her legs up and hugging them as she gasped into her knees, entire frame trembling like a guttering candle on an open windowsill.

 _“Count to five, hold your breath, exhale, do it again…”_ she repeated her doctor’s words to herself in her head, attempting to calm herself down enough to stop hyperventilating. But the harder she tried to block everything else out, the harder the tendrils of doubt slithered into her mind.

She wondered what in the hell she had been thinking, saying yes to the old man. How was she supposed to go on acting like she was nineteen again, after living forty-five years, being married for twenty-five of them, having a child, having her entire world upended because of magic _three times–_ she cut herself off again and tried once more to breathe.

Again, the mental self-assault picked up. “ _How the hell am I supposed to save her life? I’m the normal one. I don’t know her friends, I don’t know her enemies, I barely know how she died from a second-hand account! I have no magic, I’m alone, I can’t bloody do this!”_

Her own string of self-deprecation seemed to stop and loop back, like someone had left the needle on the record and it had begun to skip. _I don’t know her friends._ She realized after a moment that wasn’t entirely true. When her body finally stopped shaking, Petunia stood up beside her bed and drank the glass of water on her end table in one go. It was several more minutes before she was calm and steady enough to run a hand through her hair and examine her thoughts.

She did know at least one of Lily’s friends – or former friends now, she corrected herself. Even she remembered how Lily had come home after her fifth year away and sobbed in her mum’s lap about how that Snape boy had said some awful wizard slur to her and was running with the wrong crowd, and how she lamented that she’d had to end their five-year friendship because of it.

The Snape boy had apparently gone and gotten himself killed too, at the end of it all. She had only half listened as Harry told her about it when he came to bring them back out of hiding, claiming that Snape started off as one of that madman’s inner circle, but had turned that around and was a spy for the Light. That apparently, Snape was a hero all along, and was the bravest man he ever knew.

As a child she’d never liked the boy, seeing him as the source of her problems with her sister. Now that she was grown of course she knew that the letters would have come for Lily regardless of Snape telling them about her magical powers. But he had been so very easy to blame back then, the poor boy with the greasy hair and poor skin from the bad part of town, spying on them in the park in his grubby and ill-fitting clothes. Lily had said the boy was bullied horribly at school for the same reasons.

Petunia wondered for the first time if perhaps that drove him towards the wrong crowd to start with, and what his home life must have been like. He always appeared so small and frightened, yet he had no problem with snipping back at her and dismissing her as easily as she dismissed him. He was like a caged creature that had no desire to fight at the same time as having no choice but to.

She knew she had to be going mental now if she was feeling sympathy for the Snape boy.

But as she thought on it more, Petunia realized that he had in all likelihood loved her sister like everyone else did. Lily was kind and caring to everyone, and judging from how Snape fawned over her, she was probably his only true friend. If anyone would be willing to help her protect Lily, it would be Severus Snape. If he helped her at all, he would likely only do so _because_ it was for Lily. He had no reason to otherwise, and she knew it was not going to be a pleasant conversation either way.

Should she show up to his door and just tell him that the racist wizard he was probably working for already was going to kill her sister in four years? She scoffed, knowing damn well that was a poor idea. But perhaps if she approached it a bit softer, maybe even apologized for being so rotten to him when they were younger, maybe that would be enough to get him willing to at least hear her out.

After fighting through and pushing down the last dregs of her anxiety attack for the immediate moment, Petunia formed a bit of a plan. She would wake up early, and then set out after breakfast to the neighborhood of Spinner’s End down near the river where she presumed the Snape family still lived. He would very likely be home, since he was on Christmas holiday like Lily. She would apologize to him and ask for a truce in their little war of churlish remarks, then let him know of her concern for her sister’s safety in the wizarding world because she wasn’t born one of them. She would ask for his help in keeping an eye on Lily, and then… Then she had no idea. But she at least had some sort of plan to put into motion, and it was better that she start trying to put things in order right away.

The alternative was sitting in bed and letting the anxiety take her over instead. But as tempting as it was to do nothing and live a new quiet life somewhere far away, and as fearful as she was that this would all be for nothing anyway, she hadn’t come back to not try.

She was here to be different this time. She repeated it to herself like a mantra, breathing deeply over and over again until she finally lay back down and managed to fall asleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I appreciate and welcome any comments and / or feedback. 
> 
> Till next time (in which we will finally meet teenage Severus)! -TR


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.

* * *

_24 th December, 1977 – Cokeworth, the Midlands, England_

Not for the first time since leaving the house that morning, Petunia asked herself what she had been thinking with her idiotic plan. She stepped gingerly over another broken shard of beer bottle, the dark brown glass sticking up menacingly from the dirty sidewalk. She thought of the awful recession that the country was still struggling to rise from during this time period, and then her nose scrunched up in displeasure as she remembered that Thatcher was coming not too long after this to tank it all again.

The textile mill towns like this one had been hit particularly hard in the post-war years, when production slowed and unemployment ran rampant. Some men were so distressed by their poor financial situations that they would turn and hand their pay right to the pubs, losing themselves in drink as a way to cope. Petunia had of course heard all about it on the radio, and had listened to people discuss it in her youth, but it mattered little to her at the time. Vernon of course had his opinion on it, and scoffed at the lower class for not having gotten an office job in the city like he had. She had never needed to question any of it. She had her perfect little house in a perfect little suburb. They never lacked for anything, so what the poor country folk had or didn’t have was not her concern.

It was certainly her concern now as she drew her long green coat a little tighter around her, standing out so starkly against the brown brick buildings and near-empty sidewalks. Snow was dusting the tops of the terraced houses still, despite having turned to slush in many places in the empty street. Navigating from memory of the one and only time she picked Lily up from this part of town, Petunia took a turn at the end of the main street and started examining the names on the post boxes. It was a good seven minutes till she found the name Snape in peeling black vinyl letters on one such box at the house on the very end of the street. It took near-five minutes more of preparing herself mentally before Petunia went up the steps to the door. She shifted the small tin of shortbread Christmas biscuits in her hand to rest against her hip before reaching up to knock on the door.

A long moment passed with no response, and Petunia began to lose her nerve. She was just about to turn and go straight back to her family home when the sound of heavy footsteps drifted up, and the door swung inward with a creak.

“If you’ve come to ask forgiveness don’t even bother, you bas-”

The sallow faced teen before her looked almost exactly like Petunia remembered, just as thin and clothes just as threadbare as ever. Except somewhere along the way, Severus Snape had grown tall. He had to have been over six foot now, a half head taller than her – enough that she had to look up.

He stared down at her now in disbelief, shaking his head a bit to move his curtain of lank, ink-black hair from in front of his eyes. He had cut himself off mid-word when he opened the door and left his mouth open in shock. Whomever he was expecting to see on the other side of the door it most certainly was not her.

Petunia plucked up her courage, gathering her wits about her as she held out the festive little round red tin she’d dug out from one of the cabinets in the kitchen. “Hello, Severus.”

Severus snapped his mouth shut, but he was immediately on his guard. He looked past her onto the empty street, turning his head from side to side before finally fixing his dark eyed gaze back on her. “What do you want, Petunia? You have no business in this part of town.”

Irritation was already rising as she recalled what an absolute vexation this boy could be. But she knew she had to try to make peace, for Lily’s sake and for her own guilt.

“I came to deliver these. Happy Christmas, Severus.” She held up the tin she had been presenting since the door opened. “Christmas biscuits. My mum baked them.”

It was as though he had never received a gift of any kind before, the way he stared down at the tin like it was a basket full of severed heads or something equally unpleasant. His lips curled into that perpetual sneer she was so used to receiving from him.

“Is this your idea of a joke? Oh, I seem to have forgotten, you don’t know what those are. You never did have a sense of humor. Or the wit for it. Did you get put up to this?”

Petunia arched a pale brow at him. “Put up to it? By whom exactly?”

“By that arrogant bastard Potter or one of his lapdogs!”

“I haven’t even met him yet. And do you really think I have nothing better to do than come down here and pull some sort of trick on you?”

“Then what are you doing here!?” he exclaimed, clearly exasperated and put off by her softness.

She remembered the biscuits in her hands, pressing them into his stomach and forcing him to take them into his hands. “I came ‘round to say I’m…sorry. For being so awful to you when we were little. I’ve…I’ve been thinking about it a lot. A lot has happened lately and I’ve realized now that you were just trying to be our friend. That I was needlessly rude and I judged you because you live here.”

“Don’t act like you still don’t. Is this your attempt to reconcile your own guilt for being a stupid Muggle?” the way he said it, it was clearly meant to offend her like it would’ve when they were children.

Petunia looked down, feeling the weight of his words. He was partially correct – she was trying to reconcile her guilt. But she recognized that she needed his help, and that she had behaved poorly in the past. She wanted to be different this time. Befriending Snape was the start of it all.

“I have been a stupid Muggle. But I’m admitting that. And I wanted to ask you for a second chance. I know that you asked Lily for a second chance when you had that row, she told us.”

At the mention of Lily, Severus’ face softened, and the sorrow and pain were clear in the way his hands tightened around the tin. He looked down at it, then looked back at Petunia like he had absolutely no idea what to make of her.

She chanced a small smile at him. “Lily is part of why I’m here too. I’m worried about her. May I come in to talk with you about it? Please?”

He was clearly torn, as if he wanted to believe her but was quite unused to trusting people. He huffed and mumbled to himself under his breath, but the chill from outside made his mind up for him and he stepped aside, gesturing her inside with a nod of his head.

She smiled a little wider at him, and stepped inside.

* * *

“Do you really mean to tell me my sister _told_ you she didn’t like dark magic, and you somehow thought it would be a good idea to get _further involved_ with dark magic to impress her?” Petunia was looking at Severus incredulously over a cup of tea from a chipped pale green china cup, sitting across from him at his cramped kitchen table.

He glowered at her as he sullenly bit into a shortbread biscuit that had been iced and made up to look like a little snowflake. “Dark magic is extraordinarily powerful.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Lily was friends with you because she genuinely liked you, and not for the idea of how powerful you were or what you could do for her? Have you not got any idea how girls think?” She raised a hand as Severus opened his mouth to retort. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

It had been very awkward initially. When she had first entered the house, he tersely invited her into the kitchen for tea. She accepted, since it was the polite thing to do, and watched as he set the tin of biscuits on the table and searched through a few cabinets for the kettle. Once the kettle was on, he came to sit across from her, and they stared at one another for a moment before he finally asked her how Lily was. He was clearly desperate for any word of her since the dissolution of their friendship and listened raptly as Petunia told him that Lily was fine, but that she really had cried over him initially.

Severus was silent after that, lost in his own thoughts until the kettle whistled and he poured out two cups into the mis-matched light green and bright blue mugs they currently held. Petunia had been the one to cut to the quick of it shortly after, and asked him why he and Lily had fought.

Though it was akin to pulling particularly stubborn taffy, Petunia had finally gotten Severus to believe that she was truly interested in the story, and he began to tell her about the incident at school in his fifth year. He never met her eyes as he did, but he told her briefly about an encounter with Lily’s current boyfriend and his little gang of friends that resulted in his humiliation and calling Lily a nasty word in his embarrassment. It sickened her a little to think that it was exactly the sort of thing that she would have found quite funny once, seeing someone like him put through his paces in such a way.

She didn’t find it funny any longer. Though she had only been back in her past for a day, Petunia felt that something was changing inside her at a rapid pace. A fog seemed to be lifting off of her, driven by the determination to save her sister’s life. With an odd sort of flutter, she realized that she had something to work towards, a goal to reach. She’d not had something to work for in a long time.

They stumbled their way through the conversation about what was sure to become his worst memory of all time, and Petunia then asked him countless questions about James Potter and his Marauders, about the Dark Arts that he was so fascinated with, and about the tensions in the Wizarding World over blood purity. They finished their cups and had poured another round amidst this talk. Though he was extremely hesitant at first, Severus was proving to be quite the talker when given half a chance. She thought to herself that he very likely didn’t have many others to talk to, since he seemed to be a bit of an outsider even in his school house the way Lily used to tell it.

“So, what do you intend to do with all your new power then? This…Voldemort fellow that you want to work for – don’t gape at me like that, I’ve overheard my sister talk about things – He doesn’t like people like me. Or people like Lily for that matter. Have you thought about that? About what he wants to do to the – what do you call them, Muggle raised?”

“Muggleborns.” He supplied, popping the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. “Let me ask YOU something, Petunia. Why do you suddenly care one bit about the world of us freaks?” Severus fixed her with a cold stare, almost as if he was looking right through her and could see her thoughts.

“I told you already, I’m worried for Lily. You told her once that blood didn’t matter and now, you’re saying that it does. And you’re only half of a wizard yourself, aren’t you?”

He glared at her for that. “Don’t. Remind. Me.”

Petunia took a shortbread biscuit for herself, this one decorated like a peppermint. They were both quiet for a moment till he questioned her again.

“You think something awful is going to happen to her. Why are you so certain?”

Again, it was as though he was looking through her, and she fidgeted a little under the intense scrutiny. Petunia set down her cup and biscuit. She’d been thinking about what to say since she woke that morning, about how much to tell and how much to ask for. She was more than a little frustrated and wished that she had cared more before, that she had asked Harry to tell her more about the war that he had been fighting and how her sister had been put in the firing line, so to speak.

She decided that while she couldn’t risk telling Lily the truth, perhaps she could take a chance on telling Snape some of it. If she was expecting him to be her ally, then he had a right to know something.

“You’re going to think I’m having one over on you again. But I’m going to ask that you trust me.”

He waved a hand to prompt her to continue speaking.

With difficulty, she likened it to ripping off a stubborn bandage and started to spill her story. “I’m still me, but from the future. I’ve been sent back by your headmaster. He died a few years earlier. And then I died. I was going to. I don’t…I don’t fully know if I did. He said my time had run its course. I don’t understand any of it. I just wanted to save my sister.”

Severus looked as though he had turn to stone.

“You WHAT?”

Petunia bit her lower lip, looking him in the eyes and willing him to believe her. For the third time his gaze was penetrating as he held her look. Seeming satisfied with what he saw for whatever reason, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over again.

“I know it sounds mad. I’m still half convinced I’m having a very vivid dream. But I need your help and you’re the only one I can go to. I don’t want Lily to know about this, in case she doesn’t believe me or if it messes up some rule I don’t know. Please, Severus – at the very least, even if you don’t believe me maybe you could ask the headmaster yourself when you go back to school.”

“Suppose I did. How is Headmaster Dumbledore going to know anything about sending you back in time? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

It was Petunia’s turn to cross her arms over, looking petulant. “I don’t know how it all works! For all I know HE’S the one traipsing about through time! …he had some sort of hourglass necklace he used, maybe you could ask him about that?”

Severus hummed in thought. “A time-turner perhaps. Heavily regulated. Not many exist from what I know, and they can’t put you back more than one hour.” He tilted his head slightly. “…I suppose I could at least ask him if such a thing is theoretically possible.”

“That’s all I’m asking. And then maybe he can help us.”

He didn’t comment on her use of the word “us”. He merely nodded, and another thought seemed to strike him suddenly a moment later. “…what do you mean save your sister? And how did you die? Almost die? Whatever it was?”

“…your new soon-to-be boss. He killed her and her husband. He tried to kill her son too but it didn’t work. Lily and I never made up before it happened. And mine was…mine was self-inflicted.”

Trying to process the information that had just been dropped on him, Severus ran one long finger over the rim of his now-empty cup, over and over again till he managed to whisper “Lily…died?”

Petunia nodded slowly. “And James right with her, trying to protect her and their son. I was an awful sister and honestly with your track record right now you’ve been an awful friend. I thought that if anyone could help me…it would be you.”

“She married POTTER?” his lip curled in disgust.

“What, did you think it would be you? No, no, I didn’t mean it to be taken that way!” she quickly apologized, realizing how insensitive and mocking it had sounded even before he glowered at her. “I only meant that, well, she’s not dating you and I don’t think you ever made peace with each other.”

Severus looked absolutely gutted as his shoulders hunched. Petunia was again reminded how frustrating teenaged boys and their bloody hormones could be.

“Oh, come now. We can’t just make her fall in love with you when she only loves you as a friend, that’s just not how it works. But if you care for her as much as I think you do, then don’t you just want her to be happy and safe, no matter who it’s with?”

The answer on his face was clearly “No”, but Severus grumbled and nodded tersely anyway. “Potter is an arrogant, self-absorbed brat who doesn’t deserve the air he breathes. You’ve no idea what he’s put me through with his little boyfriend Black. She is better off without him.”

“People change, Severus. I’m learning that rather fast.” Petunia held out her hand over the kitchen table. “Partners, then?”

He regarded it as one might examine a treasure in an ancient tomb, both highly intrigued by and admiring it, but also wary of a potential trap coming at them in an instant. It took a long moment, but finally, he reached across the table and took her hand, shaking it firmly and releasing it.

“Partners. For now. I’ll ask Headmaster Dumbledore about your potential time-turner when I return to Hogwarts and I will owl you with what I am told. I commit to nothing beyond that.”

She smiled at him anyway, knowing that this was a good solid start, and confident that she could win him over to help more. If he could be even this willing to talk after just some biscuits and someone to listen to him, what was he capable of being like when he had been shown genuine kindness? Petunia found that he was actually quite tolerable when he wasn’t sneering and insulting her every second.

As she looked over him, she could’ve sworn there was a hint of flush creeping up his face. But he was out of his chair and collecting the cups a moment later, hiding behind his hair again as he went to the sink. Maybe it was the mother – former mother? – in her, but she found herself thinking that perhaps he just needed some proper direction in his life to set him straight.

Feeling that she had overwhelmed the boy enough for one day, she stood and pushed her chair in gently. “I’d better be off. I’m actually due to meet with Lily in town in a – what time is it anyway?”

They turned to the broken-faced clock hung over the little gas stove. It had been just past ten when she arrived; the clock now read quarter to one. She had been here for nearly three hours – most of it spent asking one question at a time and then listening to him answer it in length – and hadn’t felt the time pass at all. She still needed to get home, shower and dress, decide what she was going to do about the Vernon situation and the fact that she had a flat and a job she barely remembered from two and a half decades earlier waiting for her –

“Sev? Sevvy?” a woman’s distant voice from above cut through Petunia’s thoughts, and Severus jolted at the sink and nearly dropped the cup in his hand.

“Coming, mum! I’ll be right there!” Severus called up loudly. He turned back to Petunia. “My mother. She’s been…under the weather.” He strode to the kitchen door that led to the yard and opened it for her. “Go on through the back gate and around to the right. It will put you back on the main road.”

From the look on his face, Petunia got the distinct impression that meeting Mrs. Snape was not something he wanted in the least right this moment. “Alight then. I’ll be waiting for your letter. And Severus? Thank you. For my second chance.”

As she walked past him and into the yard with a final smile Petunia could’ve sworn she heard a mumbled “You’re welcome” before the door closed, and she was alone once more.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you taking the time and I welcome any and all comments / feedback. 
> 
> Till next time (in which we sit to dinner with a young Vernon Dursley and James Potter)  
> -TR


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter. General note though, we will be starting to change POVs during the next arc of this story! While Petunia is certainly our main character, both Severus and Regulus (that Regulus/Mad-Eye tag IS going to be fully justified, I promise you!) will have their own moments in the spotlight in the near future. (If only I could get us there first!)

* * *

_24 th December, 1977 – Cokeworth, the Midlands, England_

The entire ride into town, Petunia noticed her younger sister nervously twisting the edge of her skirt in both hands as she sat quietly in the passenger’s seat. She didn’t know if Lily had been this nervous the first time around; she hadn’t wanted her little sister anywhere near her precious Ford Escort that time and had left without her. She presumed Lily magicked herself to the café.

“Stop fussing with your hem, Lily. It’s just dinner.”

The redhead released her death grip on her skirt and tried to smooth the wrinkles out. “I know, I know…sorry, Petunia I’m just…I want this to go well, you know?”

“I know. It will be fine.” Petunia smiled at her sister but inwardly she felt that this was not going to be fine at all. Up till not that long ago, she still thought she loved Vernon. But she was starting to realize that in her quest to be her sister’s antithesis, she had settled on the most unremarkable man in all of Britain for almost no reason at all. Part of her still did love him, she thought. She was so sure in her anger but was starting to have second thoughts, wondering if perhaps Vernon hadn’t always been so bad. And then she would remember how stubborn he could be, and how controlling. Dudley had become spoiled because of their coddling, yes – but what example had Vernon set for him with his blustering and bullying?

The thought of her son twisted her heart up tighter than Lily’s skirt had been. She felt like she had failed him as a mother too, no matter which way it went. If she didn’t marry Vernon this time around, would he not exist in this world? Or was this entirely separate from the time and place she had left behind? She felt another anxiety attack coming on rapidly, but made a point to focus only on her own breathing, pushing the panic back to the edge of her mind to deal with later.

Sooner than she wanted them to, they arrived at the busy main street of the city. With a deepening feeling of dread, Petunia parked and waited for Lily to be finished fixing her hair in the side mirror. When Lily was satisfied, the pair made their way down to a café at the corner where a messy black-haired boy in slacks and a half untucked button-up leaned casually against the railing lining the empty patio area as a stocky, power-suited brunette man eyed him with distaste from the other side.

Upon seeing their respective partners approach, both men stood up straight and walked forward. Petunia forced herself to hold the smile on her face as Vernon kissed her cheek.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Vernon, this is my sister Lily. Lily, Vernon.” She gestured from one to the other, fighting the instant urge to yank her hand away as Vernon captured it in his own.

Lily waved hello as her boyfriend hooked a hand around her waist and pulled her in for a one-armed hug. “Nice to meet you Vernon. This is my boyfriend, James.”

Both Lily and James held their hands out to shake, both of which Vernon looked down at and ignored with a look of deep displeasure, most likely at James’ ruffled appearance. James gave Lily a mild look, but she shook her head firmly before they both put their hands down again at their sides.

“Hm. Well, let’s get inside. Freezing out here.” Vernon grunted before turning and leading Petunia up to the café door. James was whispering something to Lily, but Petunia couldn’t quite catch it.

From the moment they walked in to the moment the hostess seated them at a small round table in a quiet corner, Vernon was eyeing James again as though sizing him up.

With the memories of some of what was to come flashing before her eyes again, Petunia could practically feel the headache rising up between her eyes.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

They made it through the appetizers and the salads relatively unscathed as Vernon took control of the conversation the moment Lily opened with “so tell me about yourself”.

Petunia glanced across the table at her sister and James, and noticed the amusement that was clear in James’ eyes. The younger man was clearly not impressed, and had an impish nature to him. That much Petunia had remembered from the way he joked around at her own wedding. But through her memories of the past coupled with the few stories that Snape had told her that morning, Petunia got the impression that James Potter had the capacity to take things far beyond a simple joke. There was clearly the capacity for compassion – the man had died trying to save his wife and child after all – but there was still a dangerous disregard for where to draw the line within him. She took mental note of it.

It was when the main courses had been served around the table that things began to take their first turn towards the familiar failure of the original trip. Vernon seemed to finally remember that other people were there and puffed himself up proudly.

“So, I’ve just got the new Thunderbird imported in from America. Quite expensive. Took a month after the order I placed by phone. But you pay for quality I’ve always said. What sort of car have you got, Jameson? If you’ve got one at all.”

“It’s just James, actually. Can’t imagine riding a Thunderbird, they don’t like to stay in one place too long and there’s always the chance of it calling a storm down on you.”

Lily shot him a warning glance.

James cleared his throat, wiping the smile from his face. Vernon did not look amused.

“Right. Actually, I just got a new racing broom. The Nimbus 1500. Top of the line right now, with the best acceleration and tightest turning you could imagine.”

A silence settled over the table as Vernon started to turn purple in the face, his infamous temper beginning its slow boil. Unsure if he was being made fun of or not, Vernon’s frown deepened and sent the edges of his mustache down past his bottom lip. He grunted as if in confirmation of his own private thoughts before folding his arms over and looking down his nose at James.

“You’ve got no car, then. Suppose I should have known. Not like your kind can do any useful work. Probably all living off of unemployment like so many in this country. Small wonder it’s all gone to the dogs, with so many of you having to get handouts.”

The playful smile was back on James’ face, but there was an almost predatory look to it. “Actually, no. We’ve got our own form of currency. And my parents are actually quite wealthy.”

Vernon gave a sputtering, indignant laugh, clearly not believing him.

“He’s um…telling the truth.” Lily quietly chimed in. “He is quite wealthy. That’s not why I’m with him of course. But he’s the only child of rather famous entrepreneurs.”

Petunia sipped her red wine as she watched Vernon’s face turn a shade closer to the same color. She knew should shouldn’t be stirring the pot as it were, but she had made up her mind during his earlier self-absorbed rambling that she really had settled low on Vernon, and the love she may have had for him twenty plus years ago had faded within the final ten years of her previous life.

“That’s interesting.” She said mildly. “What business are they in?”

James grinned and stated simply. “Cosmetic potions.”

Vernon set his beer down with a heavy thud, anger furrowing his brows and narrowing his eyes.

Seemingly knowing that he had thoroughly gotten under Vernon’s skin, James continued on in a similar boastful tone. “They’ve invented and perfected a whole line of beauty potions for witches and wizards. Most famous of them is Sleekeazy's, my dad managed to quadruple our fortune with that one back in the day. Sold the company for an enormous profit when he retired too. Our Gringotts vault is packed to the brim with galleons and sickles. And since dear old mum and dad spent so many years dedicated to their work and started off really late with the baby making – I’m their only child.”

Holding up her wine glass a little and tilting her head, Petunia was able to covertly compare Vernon’s face to it side by side and confirm that it was indeed startingly close to being the same color. Though she was being relatively discreet about it, Lily must’ve somehow picked up a little on what Petunia was doing because she was halfway between amusement and horror, green eyes going wide.

Slamming his fist onto the table, Vernon leaned in closer and attempted to look threatening. Petunia noted with dismay that she remembered this next part perfectly, though the path up to it was different. She braced herself mentally for the shouting that would come soon.

Through gritted teeth Vernon growled out like a foaming bulldog “Do you think you’re clever enough to have one over on me, boy?”

“Not sure you’d know the difference if I was pulling one, but I’m plenty clever, yes.”

“James that’s enough, you can’t just go saying things like that to Muggles-” Lily cut in, attempting to defuse the situation.

“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, LITTLE GIRL?” Vernon thundered, drawing the attention of the other patrons in the café and the waitress.

The last time this all played out, things got nasty enough that Lily was in tears, and Petunia and Vernon stormed out in a rush. It was fast approaching that same finale, though now the details on what exactly got said were starting to go fuzzy. Petunia withdrew into herself for a moment, struggling to recall what was said that finally pushed things over the edge. By the time she had a vague recollection of it, Vernon had apparently begun to trade barbs alternately with James AND with Lily and was currently yelling over them both, his fists trembling on the table.

“- AND YOU’LL PROBABLY HAVE HER KNOCKED UP AND LEAVE HER YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING LAY-A-BOUT!” Vernon was bellowing, turning from James’ now-angry face to look at the very pale and stone-faced Lily, “AND YOU’RE DUMB ENOUGH TO LET HIM DO IT AND MAKE YOURSELF ONE OF THOSE DISGRACEFUL CHARITY CASES BEGGING FOR A DECENT MAN TO MARRY YOU AND RAISE ANOTHER MAN’S CHILD! ABSOLUTELY DISGRACEFUL, TURNING YOUR BACK ON DECEN-”

He never finished his sentence. Vernon fell into absolute silence after Petunia threw her recently refilled glass of pinot noir directly into his face, where it then splashed and dripped down into a vibrant abstract pattern on his gray suit jacket and the shirt beneath. Lily gasped across the table, slapping a hand over her mouth while James clapped slowly, a grin now spread wide across his face.

Slowly, Vernon turned his rage-filled gaze on his fiancé, eyes bulging. “Petunia?”

She exhaled heavily through her nose, setting her empty glass down on the table. “How could you say such awful things to a teenage girl? And you’ve made a spectacle of us, everyone in the place is staring right at us because of your awful racket!”

Vernon went slack-jawed, gaping at Petunia like she wasn’t right in the head. “Didn’t you yourself tell me what a freak of nature your sister was, and how ashamed you were of her?”

Lily looked at Petunia with sad eyes, though she had heard her sister say as much before.

Petunia felt her heart tear itself in two as she stared back at Lily, and a moment later she tore her pale blue eyes from her sister’s vibrant green ones, unable to hold the contact. She knew deep in her stomach that this next moment was going to be critical to all others that would follow.

Defiantly, Petunia turned back to Vernon, willing her fluttering heart to steady as she tried to be brave. “I said a lot of terrible things about her that I never should have said. And I have to make up for all of them and hope that she can forgive me. But regardless of how… _different_ she is, she’s still my sister and you’ll not speak to her that way!”

The next few minutes, the only sound at the table was Lily’s muffled crying as she was emotionally overwhelmed and upset at how disastrous the dinner had gone, James muttering comforting words to her, and Vernon’s heavy breathing. Finally, he stood with a jarring scrape as the chair dragged across the floor and threw down his napkin from his lap onto the table.

“Dunno what the hell has gotten into you Petunia. But you clearly need time to get hold of yourself. I’ll come to call when you return back to the city where things are so much more stable and sensible than in this backwater town! Country air has turned your senses inside out!”

With a look of disappointment mingled with disdain and a shake of his overly-large head, Vernon stormed out of the café still grumbling under his breath. 

“…suppose it doesn’t surprise anyone that the git walked out without paying the tab?” James mused, a hand gently rubbing Lily’s back.

Petunia pulled out her wallet from her clutch without a thought, and held up her Access credit card, waving it to the waitress. The waitress had the decency to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and immediately collected the card to cash out their meal.

“Oh, Petunia wait I have some pounds, you don’t have to pay for us too.” Lily sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with her own napkin and fumbling for her purse. The older Evans waved her off and tried her best to smile though she truly felt like she was going to vomit at what she had done. She had never stood up to Vernon like that in her old life, and her knees were shaking beneath the table. Had she just broken things off with him? She didn’t believe that she had, since he said he would come to see her again when she got back to London. They were supposed to go house hunting after New Year’s, she remembered belatedly. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next – none of this was like it had been the first time. Reminding herself for what had to be the billionth time that that was the entire point, she drew herself up a little, trying to regain a little poise.

After getting her charge card back, Petunia shepherded the two teens outside onto the street. The cold air brought her back to the present a little bit more, and helped her get her emotions back under control.

Lily turned to her after a moment as they moved a little bit away from the café. “Tuney…I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“It’s alright, Lily. I know you didn’t. That wasn’t your fault.” She patted her sister’s arm reassuringly.

Very sheepishly, James rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry too, Tunes – can I call you Tunes?”

She felt her eye twitch at the jarring nickname, but simply sighed. “If you must.”

“Oh, I must.”

Petunia rolled her eyes. “It’s on par with Tuney I suppose.”

“Tunes it is then!” James cleared his throat as Petunia arched a brow at him in annoyance, and he had the decency to look at least a little ashamed of his actions earlier. “Right. Anyway. I’m sorry as well. I probably shouldn’t have goaded him like that. He just seemed like a bit of an arsehole and full of himself and I wanted to knock him down a peg. I’ll make it up next time, I promise you.”

She waved him off and didn’t comment on it. “Dessert anyone? There’s an ice cream parlor down the street we used to frequent as a family when we were small.”

Lily brightened up instantly at the prospect of sweets, and James and Petunia shared a look that clearly said they were both well aware of her sweet tooth.

“Say Tunes,” – he was clearly determined to make this nickname stick – “has Lil told you about Florean Fortescue’s down in Diagon?”

Petunia took her sister’s arm in hers on the other side as James regaled her with details on all of the offerings of the shop, such as the sticky toffee pudding and chocolate chili flavored ice creams with optional toppings such as Bertie Botts Ever Flavour Beans or fizzy popping rocks.

“I hope our normal flavors aren’t too boring for you then, James.” She teased him lightly, trying to get a feel for it. She hadn’t been much of a sister in law before, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. They reached the shop after a few short minutes, and James held the door open for both girls to enter.

Half an hour and a fair number of genuine laughs later, the trio was once more on the street finishing the last of their cones and tossing the leftover paper in the rubbish bin.

Out of the calm of the now-quiet streets, the loud sound of a motorbike shifting down nearby captured James’ attention, but instead of looking towards the street, he looked skyward.

“James please tell me your parents did not let him actually enchant that awful death trap!” Lily groaned. “It’s bad enough they even let him bring it round your house and keep it!”

Petunia was just about to ask if she even wanted to know when footsteps came from the alley next to the café where they had started off at earlier.

From the dimly lit alleyway came a very good-looking young man, around the same age as James and Lily. His long black hair had a slight wave to it, and hung loose to his shoulders like he was some sort of rock musician. He had grey eyes that seemed to reflect the light from the street lamps, and a half-smirk, half-grin graced his full lips. “They absolutely let me enchant my baby girl, and in fact Mr. Potter even helped!”

Lily shook her head in disapproval. “You’ve not even got a helmet, Sirius! You’re going to get yourself killed! What if you fall off that thing!”

He shrugged his shoulders elegantly and turned his now-curious gaze on Petunia.

“Sirius, this is my sister Petunia. Petunia, this is Sirius Black, James’ best friend. Though you would think he’s James’ boyfriend from the way the pair of them behave. Sirius moved in with the Potters last summer.” Lily introduced the pair to one another. Petunia gathered from the look Sirius gave her and the way he looked down the bridge of his nose that her reputation must have preceded her.

He tossed his hair back over his shoulder and regarded Petunia again, looking her over from head to toe. “This is the Muggle sister of yours who hates our kind and says awful things about you? You know somehow, I thought she’d look a little more like a hag. She’s not that bad looking actually.”

“Pleasure to meet you too.” Petunia gave him a wry smile. “Yes, I’m the awful Muggle sister. And yes, I’ve said some awful things. I’m starting to realize I was wrong about a lot of it.”

James threw his arm around his best friend and leaned in. “Have I got a story for you, Pads. Tunes here threw her wine on her own fiancé after the bastard went on a tirade at me and Lil. I know we’ve heard some stories but she’s not half bad after all!”

“Sounds like you had some fun without me, Jim darling. I’m hurt.”

As James and Sirius continued their somewhat flirtatious chatter, Petunia leaned in to her sister to ask “Are they always like this?”

Lily looked like she was having traumatic flashbacks as she deadpanned back, “Yes. But a million times more so when their other two best friends are around. I’m the babysitter. Constantly.”

James and Sirius broke their little huddle as James stepped back up to talk to the girls. “Ladies. It’s been lovely, but since my ride is here it’s time for me to run off into the moonlight with him back to our shared bedroom at home.”

Behind James, Sirius fluttered his eyelashes and made a heart with his hands at him. Petunia snorted before she could help it, utterly amused by their stupidity. James pressed a light kiss to Lily’s cheek before offering a hand to Petunia to shake. She took it, and gave it a little squeeze.

“Goodnight girls. Get home safe, and happy Christmas!” James waved goodbye as Sirius gave a little bow before holding out his arm for James to take. The boys strolled away, already chatting eagerly again as the girls stood for a moment watching them disappear into the alley.

“You have…interesting friends, Lily.”

The redhead shrugged apologetically. “Can’t help who you love I guess.”

 _“Sometimes you can.”_ Petunia thought to herself. She shook that thought off, putting Vernon out of sight and out of mind for the moment. For now, it was nearly Christmas and she wanted to enjoy the holiday with her family for the first time in a very long time.

“Come on you. Let’s go home. You can tell me more about your boyfriend and your little rock star looking friend on the drive.” Petunia took her sister’s arm once more, and they made their way back to the car in relative peace and comfort.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading! I welcome and appreciate all comments and / or feedback. 
> 
> Till next time (in which we deal with the Vernon Problem)! 
> 
> -TR


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.

* * *

_8 th January, 1978 – Platform 9 & ¾, King’s Cross Station, London Borough of Camden, England_

Though she did not want to admit it, Petunia had been dreaming of the gleaming steam train before her since she first heard Severus Snape describe it to her wide-eyed little sister in the park. The Hogwarts Express looked like a mostly normal train to her, but the students moving across the platform looked anything but in their school robes, with frantic parents seeing them off and people rejoining friends. She looked to Lily beside her, a red and gold badge pinned proudly to her robes declaring her the Head Girl. It seemed that nearly everyone knew her in some capacity, from the various calls of “Hey Evans!” or “Have a nice holiday, Evans?” coming from seemingly everywhere. It was - for lack of any other way to describe it - rather magical to witness.

Lily hadn’t needed to bring any luggage with her, but instead hefted the strap of her knapsack over her shoulder to re-position it as she turned from the train to her sister.

Neither Evans girl seemed to know what she wanted to say as they just looked at each other. Lily opened her mouth once, then twice, but said nothing, simply staring at Petunia as if memorizing the moment down to every minute detail. It was Petunia who finally broke the silence.

“I hope you have a good rest of term. Have you got everything?”

The redhead nodded. “Mhm. Didn’t need much. Thank you for driving me down.”

“It was on my way home so it was no trouble, really.”

Silence again wrapped itself thick around them both. Petunia had so much she wanted to say, but her words were frozen in her throat. The past two and a half weeks had been something out of a fairy tale. She had spent a good deal of each day just sitting with her sister, asking questions here and there about her studies, about her friends and James’ friends, or if they weren’t talking about Hogwarts they sat in companionable silence as Petunia sewed and Lily worked on her homework. Lily never questioned the change in her sister, likely afraid to break the spell of peace that had settled over them.

The train whistle went off, and a cheerful wizard called for boarding.

Lily looked over her shoulder at the train, then back to Petunia. “Well…that’s my cue. I’ve got to meet up with the Prefects and find James before he causes any trouble. Head Boy or not he’s still James Potter. You’ll be alright getting off of the platform, won’t you?”

Petunia nodded. She was still tongue tied, struggling to unknot her words and let them loose. Before Lily could turn around to the train, Petunia reached out and took her sister’s hand. “Listen, Lily…I know we’ve got a tentative truce right now. I suppose I haven’t quite been myself the past few weeks. But I’ve been thinking it over for a lot longer than this and I’m just so…so very tired of being so petty and so jealous of you. It’s so draining honestly and I just wanted to tell you that I enjoyed your company and I’m so sorry. For everything, all the things I said. I was awful to you and I can’t expect you to just forgive me for it just like that but I just want to make sure you know that I love you before it’s too late.”

She had still botched it a little, blathering on and sounding far less elegant than she wanted, but before Petunia could say anything further her sister had wrapped her in a snake-like embrace. She had tried her very best to not cry, but it was impossible to not grow emotional again. She sagged in relief; of course Lily had forgiven her. Lily was kind, and endlessly forgiving, and she had never been mad at her sister. Lily had tried so hard, making every attempt to reconcile over the years.

“Petunia I forgive you. I didn’t realize how hard it must’ve been for you, too. I missed you every day my first year, do you know? I wanted you to be there with me too and I felt dreadful that you were cross with me. I didn’t ask to be a witch but…I am one. If I could have given some of my magic to you believe me, I would have. I love you so much Tuney. I’m just so pleased to have my best friend back.”

Now Petunia was crying in earnest as she squeezed Lily back just as hard. It didn’t come near atonement for what she had said and done in the life before this one, but her biggest regret – not reconciling with her sister – was now undone, at least in part. She still had so much to make up for, but at the very least, the one thing that haunted her most was now over with, and she could move forward.

All too soon, they had to break apart. Lily rushed onto the train, immediately seeking out the closest window to pop her head out and wave at her older sister. “I’ll write to you! And then perhaps if you’re able, you could come to graduation in the spring!”

Petunia was still wiping tears from her face, throat too tight to speak, so she nodded in agreement and waved instead. She was still waving back when the train finally began to pull away. She stood there as the train began to pick up speed, and even when Lily’s compartment was past the platform she remained. Near the rear of the train, she spotted the familiar face of Severus Snape in one of the windows, looking out rather miserably with his cheek resting on his hand. They made eye contact and his eyes went wide in recognition. She smiled and decided to wave at him as well.

In the window, Severus’ face changed from shocked at seeing her on the platform to flustered by the attention, as if her waving at him was something entirely abnormal and almost embarrassing. Or perhaps he just wasn’t used to anyone doing such a simple thing as waving goodbye to him from a crowded train platform.

Whatever his reason was, Petunia found herself shocked in turn when Severus lifted his face out of his hand just long enough to give a small perfunctory wave before the train was completely beyond the platform. He didn’t smile at her – she didn’t think he ever had in the many years she had known him – but he had waved back at her and that, she decided, was the surest sign of progress. She must have done something right to get the dour young man to be even this friendly to her. She hoped that he would seek out his Headmaster right away and write to her soon. Though she had made amends with Lily, her sister was by no means out of danger and she still had much to fear if the past repeated itself.

Heart feeling full and heavy and light all at once, Petunia turned back to the brick wall from which she had come, took a breath, and stepped back into the Muggle world once more.

* * *

It took over an hour and more than a little frustration before Petunia was able to locate her old flat in Bloomsbury, and by the time she had gotten in she wanted nothing more than to throw herself onto her bed and never leave the place again. But the very next day was Monday, and that meant work.

She groaned and put a hand to her head at the thought. She hadn’t needed to work for over twenty years. She hadn’t even looked at a typewriter in decades, let alone worked one. She supposed that it wasn’t so difficult to remember how to type and how to file the various documents at the firm. What _was_ going to be difficult however was facing Vernon in that very same office.

He had said he was going to come to call when she returned, which could very well mean he would show up unannounced tonight. She went back and dead bolted the door just in case, and took a little time to walk around the small one bedroom flat once more. She had really liked this little place when she moved into it all those years ago. Bloomsbury was a very “in” place to live at the time, seen as a center for culture and arts. She thought of herself as very cultured at the time, though of course now she knew just how narrow minded and unlearned she had been.

The tiny living room opened up into an even smaller kitchen. The bedroom and attached bathroom were tidy and smelled of lilac from the potpourri in small bowls on the counter and dresser. It felt cramped compared to her two-story house on Privet Drive, and yet it was a fresh and revitalizing breath of air. She had her own space and no men to fuss over. The idea was novel – doing as she pleased without having a husband or a child to worry about tending. A little thrill went through her at the thought of doing whatever she wanted.

Her first order of business was to get reacquainted with her wardrobe – she hadn’t been a size small since before she had given birth to Dudley – and her second order had been to figure out what she had in the house in the way of food and what she would need to go out and buy during the week. She knew that she had a rather decent amount of money saved at this time in her life, so that wasn’t a real issue for her. But what Petunia did not have was an idea of what to do with herself beyond this.

She had already resigned herself to stepping back into her old life and her old job, and seeing if she could still make something of it. But her old friend anxiety was already making her run over all the ways that this could go horrendously wrong, and it was starting to make her feel physically ill. Needing to do _something_ to break up the familiar feeling of dread currently threatening to turn her stomach inside out, Petunia settled on the idea of a nice long shower. So she kicked off her flats, not bothering to watch where each one landed, unzipped her skirt and tugged off her blouse, and left them all together in a rumpled heap on the floor. She left her bra hanging on the handle of the bathroom door, and finally dropped and kicked off her knickers somewhere vaguely near the toilet.

Leaving her clothes lying about this way was tantamount to open rebellion. The old Petunia would have thrown an absolute fit at seeing anything untidy and out of place, and she would never have left even a single stocking anywhere outside of a wash basket. New Petunia was too bloody tired to care.

One boiling temperature shower later, Petunia dried off and flung herself onto her bed entirely nude, something she had always wanted to do but never had the boldness to try. The sensation of the cold comforter against her warmed skin was so soothing that before she could even turn out the light or spare a thought to sliding under the blanket, she had passed out on top of it right where she landed.

* * *

By mid-morning the next day, Petunia already wanted to quit her job again.

Getting to the Grunnings business office was simple enough – she had lived within walking distance of it and took the same familiar route day in and day out. She had always kept rather to herself in the office anyway, so not remembering names was only a minor issue which she covered up with polite “Good mornings” and “Hellos”. She took care to observe name plates on desks and doors wherever possible, though she knew it would take time before she could really recall any of them on command. Even settling in at the typing pool with the other young typists and secretaries wasn’t that bad. It was all the **_men_** that made her want to tear her hair out.

Having married and moved away, Petunia had forgotten entirely the endless subtle and non-subtle flirtations of young single men and older married men alike. She felt like a floundering fish encircled by sharks, and she didn’t even think she was the tastiest one of the group.

Still, Petunia took it in stride and after a few tries and some awkward fumbling with her hands on the keys, she was back to typing like she had never left it. She idly listened as the girls nearest her gossiped about some office drama or another, and dutifully typed the stack of executive notes and letters that had been left in her work tray. She had never thought of herself as an actress, but was taking some sort of small pleasure in how well she had adapted back to her old life.

It was nearly lunch time when Vernon came stomping through the office, yelling at his junior employees about deadlines and picking up the slack. The other girls in the typing pool quickly made themselves look busy, but kept casting glances over at Petunia. She braced herself as he neared.

“Ah, Petunia. Glad you’ve made it back to civilization.” He came to a stop beside her desk, leaning against it and displacing several of her memos with his large hard. Oblivious to the mess he was making, he leaned in closer and sent a few papers to the floor. “How does lunch today sound?”

She knew her tone was as frosty as her pale blue eyes as she pursed her lips and looked from her fallen papers back up to him. “No thank you.”

From the sudden chittering and whispers around her, it seemed that she was about to be quite the source of gossip. She wondered if word of her little argument with Vernon on Christmas Eve had already gotten out. With as loud as Vernon was about everything it wouldn’t surprise her.

Vernon was already turning red in the face at being rebuffed, especially by his own fiancée and in front of other people. “Bu- wha – Who do you-” he sputtered for a moment before composing himself. “Alright. Fine. How about tomorrow then? You must still be tired from your drive back.”

“No thank you.” She turned back to her typewriter primly, shoulders back and head raised. She made a point of brushing her hair – still down to her shoulders at this period in her life – over her left shoulder, making sure that Vernon clearly saw her ring-less finger.

Petunia could practically hear his teeth grinding like the drill bits that their company sold and manufactured. Soon enough he would be promoted to Director of their nine-floor factory plant and distribution center in Surrey, and would be hearing the same noise day in and day out. She didn’t intend to be with him when he did.

“When is it _convenient_ for you to sit to talk, Petunia?” he bit out, every word clipped. He was seething and she knew it, but he didn’t want to cause another semi-public scene; he was eyeing the half-drunk mug of coffee on her desk like it was going to leap up and attack him.

She picked up the mug, letting the pettiness she had been trying to curb out a little as she took a sip and made him wait for her to answer. Much as she wanted to be done with this here and now, she had other things to deal with, such as re-learning who her colleagues were, establishing new routines, deciding what she wanted to do for a living beyond this, and waiting for Snape’s letter.

After a beat, she set her mug down. Vernon’s eyes never left it. “Friday. After work.”

Vernon made a small noise of displeasure, but only nodded curtly before storming off.

The whispers around Petunia had finally begun to grate on her nerves, and she whirled around to face the other girls. “Mind your business, you nosy hens! Go peck at someone else!”

Confrontation still left her wrung out and more than a little uncomfortable, but at the very least she was proud that she had stood her ground. Friday evening seemed simultaneously a lifetime and a blink away. She picked up her purse and put up her out to lunch sign, and went to take her break.

* * *

_13 th January, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

It was so very fitting that the Friday she had chosen happened to be Friday the 13th. Petunia wondered if Lily and her kind – magical people, she reprimanded herself, saying her “kind” sounded bad – held that day in any sort of significance or if it was just Muggle superstition. Regardless of how the magical world thought of it, she was certainly going to remember it herself.

After work that day Vernon had asked – demanded really – that she meet him in Russell Square near the university. They had one of their very first dates here, she recalled. A walk around the gardens together. In which Vernon had bragged about himself the entire time as if they didn’t know one another from work already. She had been enamored with him at the time, mistaking his brutish nature for the very height of masculinity and power. In her desire to show up her sister and be as normal as possible, she thought him quite proper and a perfect choice. Times had certainly changed since the 70s.

By the time Vernon finally arrived, ten minutes late with no apology, she was already irritated.

“Alright. Here we are. Friday evening, like you asked.” Vernon cleared his throat and continued before Petunia could get a single word. “Now before you apologize for your abnormal behavior, just know that while I said I won’t hold your sister’s freak nature against you I still am very disappointed with your actions in that backwater town. But I will forgive you, of course.”

His entire demeanor suggested he felt himself blameless in the whole affair.

Petunia drew herself up, using all five foot eight of her height to whatever effect it had. It wasn’t much, but she felt taller and it gave her a little courage.

“Before I apologize for MY behavior? What about YOUR behavior? Causing a scene? Insulting my little sister and her boyfriend for no good reason because YOU were uncomfortable?”

Vernon stared at Petunia like he didn’t understand what language she was speaking, confusion plain as day on his face. “They were obviously insulting me! Why are you defending them?”

“Just because you don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s an insult to you!”

Now Petunia knew he was angry, because his complexion was fast approaching scarlet.

“Now see here, Petunia! I’ll not have any woman of mine questioning me like this!”

“And I’ll not be spoken to like a child! I’m a grown woman and I’ll not be any woman of yours if this is how you’re going to speak to me! I tolerated enough! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!” she declared passionately, sticking her finger into his meaty shoulder to emphasize her words. She wasn’t only speaking of the present, but her past as well – she had taken his verbal abuse and forceful personality for far too long, adhering to outdated ideals of marriage.

“What are you saying then? You’ll throw away our entire relationship-”

“It’s only been a bloody YEAR!”

He continued on like she hadn’t spoken at all. “-for what? For calling your sister what she is! Why have you changed all of a sudden? I thought so much better of you, Petunia. I thought you were the ideal woman! Were you lying this whole time because of my position?!”

“I was WRONG. I know I was wrong now! I’ve made things right with my sister. And I know now that I just rushed into things with you to be as different from her as possible!” She was breathing hard now, shaking a bit as she tended to do when she was this upset. It took a long moment before she could continue, with the one thing she had wanted to ask since catching him in the act back in 2003.

“Why am I so ideal to you, Vernon? Answer me that.”

Vernon let out a noise like a deflating balloon as he visibly struggled to think. “Well, that’s obvious isn’t it? Let’s see…You’re quiet. You listen. You’re proper. You’re good looking-”

Her voice was indeed quiet when she cut him off in a harsh, husky near-whisper. “Do you love me, Vernon Dursley?”

“Beg your pardon?” he took a half step back because of the severity of her tone.

“Do. You. Love. Me? Was I not speaking English? Or are you too thick to understand?”

It was when he began to stammer and struggle with trying to say it that she knew she had made the right decision. Petunia pulled the small black velvet ring box from her purse and held it out to him to take. “That’s what I thought. Take your ring back, Vernon. It’s over between us. All of it.”

“You had better think VERY HARD about what you’re about to do Petunia, I’m about to be a very important man, they’re very near to promoting me and you would do well with a husband like me!”

Thoroughly unimpressed and now surer than ever that she did not love him any longer, Petunia gave him a haughty look, putting a hand on her jutted hip and turning the other hand over to dump the ring box directly on the ground.

“I would also probably do well with a husband that has a bigger prick than yours. Can barely feel the damned thing. Pity it isn’t in line with the size of the rest of you. Have a nice life, Vernon.”

She blew him a mocking kiss and turned on her heel, skirt flaring out dramatically behind her as she did, and left him standing there with his mouth agape. Petunia Evans – a Dursley no longer – had finally retroactively divorced her cheating husband.

Vernon didn’t utter another word to her as she left for home.

* * *

Though nervous for her future, Petunia was elated at her new-found freedom and intended to open a bottle of wine for herself back at her flat, and perhaps even put a few records on to have a little celebration by herself. Things had been going so much better than she expected when she first arrived. So it was a shock to her system when she set her things down on the couch and entered the kitchen to find a large brown barn owl sitting on top of the apples in her fruit bowl, helping itself to one of them.

She shrieked in surprise, jolting and clutching the doorjamb for support. After the initial shock wore off, she reminded herself that magical folks couldn’t exactly send mail through the regular post, and that owls were the preferred method of communication. Still hesitant as she eyed the talons and sharp beak of the creature on her table, Petunia hesitantly reached for the letter that the bird was sitting on top of. The owl twisted its head upside down to observe her.

“I’m Petunia, that letter is for me isn’t it? …Why the devil am I talking to a bird…” she shook her head and sighed as the owl shuffled a little and let her take the parchment paper.

The wax seal on it was green, embossed with the outline of a snake. Her first name was written in neat, tidy script on the front. She broke the wax seal gently and unfolded the page. It was short, but apparently it had been written with precision and great care in the same precise hand.

_“Petunia,_

_I have spoken with the Headmaster about your situation, and he would like to come and speak to you in person. He has asked that I accompany him, since I am your “partner” in this, as we agreed. He would like to come to visit as soon as possible, if you are willing. It would need to be a weekend, as I still must attend class on the weekdays. I’ve instructed the owl to wait for your reply. Proper etiquette dictates that you give the owl a treat when you send it off. This one’s name is Dusty. He’s a school owl, so he’ll be fairly well behaved._

_I’ll be waiting for your reply._

_-Severus Snape”_

It took a few read-throughs before she realized she had read it properly, and Dumbledore wanted to visit her to speak. Here. At her flat. The idea made her more than a little nervous, especially since she knew what he was capable of and how well regarded he had been by both Lily and by Harry. But Severus was a presence she was used to, and he would be there as well and the thought of that actually seemed to help calm her. Severus Snape was familiar, and reminiscent of home. She found it quite ironic that the boy she hated most of all for much of her younger life was now going to be a source of comfort in a meeting with herself and a legendary wizard.

“Alright Dusty, since you’ve helped yourself to a treat on your own, I suppose you’re waiting on me to answer. Hold on a moment.”

She felt silly but the owl seemed to understand, and continued to crunch on the apple.

Fetching a pen and a piece of stationary from her coffee table, she began to pen a quick reply.

“ _Severus,_

_Thank you for your help thus far. Please let your Headmaster know that I am willing to meet with him here. I am available this weekend if he would like to meet. If you can respond and let me know before you turn up so that I have time to prepare, I would appreciate it.”_

She paused a moment, wondering if she should use this chance to further their goodwill. Since she was trying to befriend him a bit better to continue to gain his trust, she continued on to write

“ _I hope that your first week back at school has gone well. Good luck with studying, I know you have to take your N.E.W.T. exams next term. Feel free to write to me any time, if you would like._

_Sincerely,_

_-Petunia”_

Satisfied, she folded the paper over into a little self-contained envelope like she had as a schoolgirl passing notes with her friends in class. Dusty reached out a talon and took the paper gently. He picked up the apple core in his beak and set it down on the table before spreading his wings and making his way out of the very small kitchen window. Petunia watched him go with fascination. She didn’t know how the bird had found her in the first place, or how it would make it all the way back to Scotland with her little note intact, but less and less was surprising her by the day.

With her official Saving Lily’s Life business handled for the evening, Petunia tossed the apple core in the rubbish bin and went to put her Rolling Stones records on to celebrate her liberation.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading! I truly appreciate every single comment and kudos, and I welcome any and all feedback!
> 
> Till next time (in which we will be changing our point of view to follow along with young Severus Snape!),
> 
> -TR


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.

* * *

_12 th January, 1978 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

For the entirety of his first four days back at school, Severus’ mind had been full of flowers both actual and figurative. On the first day back, he had watched from across one of the inner courtyards as his Lily – his former best friend, the girl he had loved – as her face lit up in pure joy when Potter tossed her one of his little prank objects and instead of bursting into something unpleasant like it would have if it had been thrown at himself, it burst into a lush bouquet of tropical flowers in her hands. He had watched as she took Potter’s stupid smug face into her hands and kissed him fiercely in the middle of the crowded courtyard. And when he had looked at Lily as long as he could stand, and his heart was fit to break over her for a third time, Severus thought of Petunia.

To say that he had disliked the elder Evans sister was to put it mildly. He had hated her nearly as much as he hated Potter or Black, but no one could ever truly earn the same level of ire as his tormentors of the past six and a half years. So when she had shown up at his door, not as caustic and harsh and obviously jealous as in their youth but humble, apologetic, and even _kind_ …it was as if he’d had a fundamental law of his little world broken. Severus had a number of words to describe Petunia Evans from when they were children. Kind had never been among them.

He had not been inclined to believe her, not even when she said that she wanted to make amends for her past, nor when she pleaded for his help to protect her sister. But earnestness and desperation were two old friends of his, and he knew firsthand the kind of need in her eyes for someone to believe her – or to believe _in_ her. Three times he used his burgeoning talent for Legilimency on her, and three times he had found her to be telling the truth. While he could only see flashes of what was on her mind, he could discern enough to see that her intentions and her words were honest.

And he had no idea what to do with that knowledge. The very idea of Lily - bright and vivacious and brilliant Lily - being dead was almost too much. While he felt that Potter dying was no big loss to the world at large, the thought of a world without the most brilliant witch of their age was too much. “ _Perhaps_ ,” he thought to himself as he sat miserably in the courtyard, “ _Petunia is right…perhaps it really is better to see her alive and happy with Potter than to imagine a world without her in it at all.”_

Severus had been so wrapped in his admittedly selfish thoughts of Lily and his own self-pity that he had neglected to ask Petunia for all the additional details he now craved. How was this magically possible? How had Dumbledore supposedly brought her back from the future? If she truly was from the future, how old was she actually right now? And what could have driven prim and proper Petunia Evans to even think about taking her own life? He was more than a little curious to know what could be so awful in her drab Muggle world to make her feel as worthless as he did on more than one occasion.

No stranger to brushes with death himself – whether at his own shaking hands or by Black’s attempt to weaponize his damned _werewolf_ “friend” two years before – Severus continued to circle back to the way she had timidly said her death was self-inflicted, and quickly turned focus from herself. In fact, the majority of their conversation had been him willingly talking to her about his troubles at school and the still-painful loss of his best and only real friend. It was entirely unnatural for him to open up this way. He didn’t even tell him mum half of this, for fear of aggravating her already poor health. Yet he had somehow been completely disarmed and prompted to bare his soul to a familiar figure from his youth by a tin of biscuits and an open ear. How suddenly life became confusing, he mused.

She had actually asked for his help. And insisted that he was the only one who **could** help her, he remembered with a little thrill of pride running through him. He had been so moved by it that he had given his word to her that he would at least ask Dumbledore about his supposed rule-bending time-turner. And so duty-bound by his very simple promise to her, Severus had finally stopped dragging his feet and sought out the Headmaster after lunch that Thursday before the man had left the staff table.

“Pardon me, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore turned and smiled down at Severus with that ever-present twinkle in his eyes, and if he was at all surprised by his student’s sudden approach, he did not show it.

“Good afternoon, Mister Snape. You look as though you’ve something troubling on your mind. How may I ease your thoughts?”

Severus felt a sudden pressure as he thought of how ridiculous his questions sounded to himself. But he had given his word and this was ultimately for Lily’s sake he reminded himself. “Headmaster, I have something that I would like to speak with you about but…in private. It’s…sensitive.”

The headmaster hummed thoughtfully, looking Severus directly in the eyes and leaning in closer. “You’re not in any sort of trouble, are you my boy?”

“No, not me. But a…friend. That friend may be in some kind of trouble. Later on. And the circumstances are very…very odd.” Severus hated stumbling over his words or feeling like he wasn’t prepared. He had taken a lot of care over the past few years to start to change his way of speaking, to be more precise with his words and not let anyone have the chance to turn them on him. Yet with someone he truly worried about sounding proper in front of, he stammered and sputtered like a toddler first learning to speak. The annoyance he felt at himself added to the consternation on his face.

“That sounds troubling indeed. Since it is of such grave concern to you, why don’t you come up to my office later this evening after you’ve finished your classes for the day? I trust you still know your way up. The password this week is Rum Raisin.”

Severus nodded, feeling a bit of weight lift from him. The headmaster hadn’t dismissed him outright, so he had time to try to compose himself and present the story to the old man in a sensible and calm manner. “Thank you, headmaster. I’ll come straight away after class.”

Dumbledore dismissed him with a gentle smile and a hearty pat on the shoulder before he shuffled past him, back to whatever it was that he did throughout the day.

* * *

Several hours later saw Severus sitting before his headmaster, having spilled far more than he intended to. He had promised Petunia only that he would ask about the device that the future Dumbledore may have used to send her back. Instead, he had told Dumbledore everything, from the moment she showed up to his door, to their conversation over tea, to her confession that her sister and brother-in-law were fated to die at the Dark Lord’s hands, and her claim of having come from the future to stop that very thing from happening. When he finally finished pushing all of the words out of himself with great effort, he cursed inwardly; all of that and he had yet to even ask about the object he originally had intended to discuss, though he had mentioned it in his recap of events.

He was now staring down at his worn dress shoes, trying everything possible to avoid meeting the penetrative stare of the powerful wizard before him. He felt like he was being looked through rather than at, and wondered fleetingly if this is what Petunia had felt like when he had used Legilimency on her those weeks ago. He wondered if Dumbledore just had this effect on people that made them turn over their secrets on silent command. He wondered still if perhaps he was just too unguarded these days, too emotionally weak from his long pining from Lily. 

After a long moment, Severus finally looked up only to find the headmaster’s gaze was on something on the wall behind him. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder to see what.

“I am truly surprised that you would seek me out for guidance in this matter, Severus.” The older wizard said at last, turning his eyes onto his student again. “Especially when you could have simply gone and asked Voldemort to spare Lily himself when you become marked this summer. Do not look so surprised, Severus. It is hardly a secret that several of our more prominent Slytherin students are simply awaiting their graduation day to enlist with him, as it were. That is still your intention is it not?”

“I don’t…I don’t know anymore.” He answered honestly, surprising himself. He had been so sure of it before, so determined on his path up until a few weeks ago. His housemates – the ones he actually deemed worth speaking to – were all naturally on the same path. Several of them came from families that had agreed with Grindelwald all those years back, and so this was a natural progression. Lucius Malfoy had taken him under his wing when he first arrived at Hogwarts, and not only was he already a marked Death Eater, he was already within the Dark Lord’s inner circle and had promised Severus a coveted position within it as well. Severus was now well regarded among the blood purists of Slytherin house as someone who had risen above his oft-derided half-blood status to be accomplished in the dark arts and in potions, both skills highly desirable by the Lord Voldemort himself.

And then Petunia Evans had come along and begged him for help, and told him that the Dark Lord he so admired was the one who would snuff out the light that had so often keep him going. And now he was here talking to the man who opposed the Dark Lord more than anyone.

“And you would only turn from your path to protect Lily, without a thought for any of the others who have died already at Voldemort or his followers’ hands? Would you have had any concern for her future husband and future child? Or would you simply have pleaded for her life, as if she were a gift to be granted to you by pure virtue of you wanting her for yourself?”

“No! I don’t want her like that! She isn’t an object!” Severus declared passionately, drawing an expression of curiosity from Dumbledore. He swallowed down his emotions and attempted to gain some semblance of poise. “I…I would have…maybe I would have. Asked him to spare her, that is. She was my best friend. It’s not just that I want her for myself. I love her. I came to you because I promised Petunia I would and…and I would rather Lily be alive, even if it’s with him. She deserves her happiness.”

He felt absolutely miserable uttering those words, but having contemplated them for several days now he knew them to be the undeniable truth.

Dumbledore exhaled, humming thoughtfully as he did so, as though coming to a conclusion of his own. “I believe then, Severus, that a visit to Miss Petunia is in order. If everything is as she says…then she is perhaps an ally that we could most certainly use. She has made enough of an impression upon you to steer you back towards good sense. And there may be valuable information about our current fight that she possesses, whether she knows it yet or not. I have corresponded with her once before, though I daresay she does not hold the memory in high regard.”

Severus remembered it himself. Petunia had written to the Headmaster, asking to attend Hogwarts as well only to be rejected for a lack of magic. From that day on, Petunia’s scorn and outright hatred of Lily and Severus had gotten so much worse.

“I would like you to accompany me, Severus. She is familiar with you, and you are her partner in this. I believe that your presence can help smooth things over. Depending on how our visit goes, I may have yet more to ask of you. But I wish to think it over a bit more. Now, since you are still preparing for your N.E.W.T.s your schoolwork is still very important, so I propose a weekend day and the sooner the better. Would you be so kind as to write to Miss Petunia to inquire on when we may come to her?”

“Yes, Headmaster. I had already told her that I would write to her after I spoke to you.”

Dumbledore nodded, pleased. “Excellent. Please see to that right away. When she responds, come and notify me and I will make further arrangements then. Now then, it is rather late. You should be off, before you risk running afoul of Mr. Filch for breaking curfew.”

Severus nodded, thanking the man as he stood and pushed his chair neatly back in at the desk. As he began to make his way towards the door, Dumbledore’s voice caught him once more.

“I must commend you, Severus. Admitting to one’s mistakes is a most difficult thing to do, even for people twice your age. I am most proud of you for making what must have been a rather painful decision in coming to speak with me. Thank you, for doing the right thing.”

He suddenly found his throat too tight to answer. Severus could not remember ever being told by anyone in his life that they were proud of him. Perhaps his mother had, in better times. But it was so long since the better times that he could not say with any certainty. He turned over his shoulder and gave the headmaster a firm nod of acknowledgement, hiding behind his hair again as it covered his face and swiftly descending the stairs back into the corridor.

The walk down to the dungeons was a blurred haze for him as he wound through the mostly empty halls. He was emotionally drained from so much self-examination and conflicted on his future. Severus was so wrapped up in himself that he completely missed the other student coming down the hall and walked headlong into them, stumbling back a step.

“Watch where you’re go- oh. Hello Regulus. Aren’t you cutting things a little close to curfew? Awful Gryffindor of you.” Severus arched a brow, smirking down at his housemate.

Regulus Black, often overlooked thanks to his loud and arrogant embarrassment of an older brother, was one of the select few Slytherins that Severus genuinely liked rather than merely tolerated.

The younger boy rolled his eyes, lips curled into a little smirk. “Me, act like a Gryffindor? What a disgusting thought. Don’t make me vomit.”

Severus made an amused sound in the back of his throat before muttering the password to the common room, and the wall slid open to give them entry. “Coming back from another little tryst? Who have you sunk your fangs into this time? Another curious, innocent pure-blood boy no doubt.”

Regulus lifted an eyebrow, looking vaguely affronted. “I’ve never sunk my fangs into anyone who didn’t want it. And I have very high standards.” He tilted his head from side to side, an impish smile playing over his mouth. “…but for your information it was a Ravenclaw seventh year and it was more of an exchange of services. I wanted my three-foot History of Magic essay done because who the hell cares about the damn Veela Insurrection of the Middle Ages? And he wanted a quick shag with another boy, just to “try it out”. We both got what we wanted out of it, and he’s not going to say a word. Wouldn’t want his little girlfriend to find out, after all.”

Severus shook his head in exasperation, to which Regulus merely snickered, making his eyes sparkle in the dim green torchlight. Even Severus had to admit to himself with no small amount of embarrassment that Regulus was good looking, especially so when he laughed or smiled. He was not as tall as his brother, and a little narrower in the shoulder, slender without being waifish. He was only fifteen but had already become rather prolific in his own way, at least among his own House. He was the star Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and one of the youngest team leaders in recent history, having been granted the captaincy the year prior. And unlike his older brother, Regulus had followed the family legacy and been sorted properly.

“Why are you coming back so late anyway, Severus? Didn’t have another run in with that bastard former brother of mine, did you? I think you’re the only person who hates him as much as me.”

“I don’t disagree with you on that.” Severus had spent many an evening listening to the younger boy rant about his brother, especially when the elder Black was finally disowned last year. “But no, for once your bastard brother did not bother me today. I just had to speak to the headmaster after class.”

Regulus made a disdainful face. He had been very vocal about his family’s feelings on the headmaster before. Considering his parents were staunch supporters of blood purity and scions of one of the last remaining Noble and Most Ancient Houses, it was no surprise that Regulus had intentions on joining the Death Eaters as well, as soon as he was able. It was something else that the pair of them had bonded over and spoken of in hushed tones more than once.

“My condolences. The sooner you graduate and get away from that Mudblood-loving idiot running this place, the better. I only wish I was leaving with you this year.” He pouted, heaving his shoulders with a dramatic sigh. “Well, I’ve got a big match tomorrow and I’m already exhausted so I’m going to bed. See you ‘round, Severus.”

“Goodnight, Regulus.” Severus gave the younger boy a little wave as he departed. He waited till Regulus’s footsteps faded away down the passage to the boy’s dormitories before making his own way towards the fireplace. He sat for a long time staring into the flames, mulling his conversation with Dumbledore in his mind until finally he dragged himself off to his own bed. 

* * *

The next morning saw Severus up before any of his roommates and dashing off to the Owlery before the rest of the school had even begun to stir. He sat on the floor and scribbled out a short letter to Petunia, having decided after some anxious pacing that brevity and factuality would be perfectly fine. He wondered with annoyance why he suddenly cared how he came across in the letter.

As he sat, one of the school barn owls came and swooped down to land on his shoulder. He was familiar with this one, named Dusty, as it was reserved and tended to stick to itself, keeping strange hours compared to its fellow birds. Often, Dusty would be the bird he chose to send off letters to his mother, as the owl was obedient and lacked the ego that other school owls seemed to naturally have. Severus had been set to close and seal the letter when he remembered that Petunia was familiar with owl post, but likely didn’t know how it worked. He turned his head to address the owl on his shoulder.

“Alright, Dusty. You’ll be taking this to a Muggle named Petunia Evans, and I need a reply from her. Please wait for her to give you a letter in return. I’ll give her instruction in the letter, don’t worry.”

Trusting that the owl would understand, he pulled his quill back out and continued to write out a short detail on owl etiquette, so she would know to give him a treat and that he would wait for her to give him something to take back to Severus. He felt that she would appreciate that, since the owl would no doubt take her by surprise and he did not want to give her reason to be upset with him.

Pulling a treat from his robe pocket that he had saved for just such an occasion, Severus let Dusty take it from him and crunch away as he pulled out one of his precious green wax sticks and a Slytherin snake seal stamp. The seal stamp and the wax sticks that had come with it had been part of a stationary set gifted from Lucius and his wife Narcissa, which he used for his correspondence to them and other important figures in the Dark Lord’s service. The irony of using part of it to write a letter to a Muggle – a formerly Wizard-hating Muggle at that – was not lost on him.

A few moments later, the wax was stamped and cooled, and the letter was complete. Dusty took it gingerly in one of his talons, and took off.

* * *

Even expecting a response, Severus was still shocked when Dusty returned that same day at dinner, and dropped a small folded paper in front of his dinner plate. He would never cease to be amazed at how fast owls could be. Ignoring his housemates’ curious looks he pocketed the letter away till he could get privacy, lest it be snatched from his hands or catch attention from the Marauders.

He was already impatient by the time he finally left the Slytherin table and made it to the nearest bathroom and found it was mercifully empty. He hastily entered one of the stalls and fished the little letter from his pocket. It took another moment for him to figure out how to open the blasted thing, cursing girls and their needless complexity in note-writing before he was finally able to read.

It was even shorter than his had been, but the content of it still sent a flush of warmth through his face. The thanks he had expected – he had done her a favor after all. But the little bit of extra kindness in her words instructing him to write to her again if he would like was so unexpected even from this new and improved Nice Petunia. He still had absolutely no idea what to make of that, or of her.

Severus wasn’t used to people treating him kindly – especially not people of the opposite gender. He supposed on one hand that she was likely trying to be extra friendly with him because she needed his help and wanted to stay in his good graces. Even so, he was still surprised not only that she had wished him luck and knew of his N.E.W.T. exams in the next term, but he also found himself somewhat…touched that she had offered to continue their contact beyond the basic need of communicating with Dumbledore about her unique situation.

Though he knew her concern was clearly on protecting her little sister, it still made him feel a little bit of happiness in some small way, that someone would welcome a letter from him. Severus glanced again at the regular piece of Muggle paper before him, and the logo reading Grunnings at the top of the page. He presumed it was stationary from her employer. He frowned at himself for actually starting to wonder more about Petunia, and what she was up to these days. He was starting to sound like an emotional sop, like one of the overly emotional Hufflepuffs he so often scoffed at.

And yet, as he looked down and saw her informal signature – _Sincerely, Petunia –_ Severus could not help the little flutter in his chest at the way she had forgone her surname, almost as if they were friends. It was one thing to call each other by first name in person, since they had known one another so long. But to address him so casually, and sign herself casually in return on paper was making him feel rather uncomfortably emotional things.

He shook himself and tried to fold the letter up in the best approximation of its original form. He gave that up a moment later as a lost cause, instead folding it in half twice and tucking it safely away. He needed to get to the Headmaster as soon as possible and let him know what Petunia had said. He knew it was urgent, and that it was potentially crucial to the war going on outside the safe walls of the castle – a war that he was no longer sure of what side he wanted to be on.

But just for tonight, Severus decided to be selfish and enjoy the feeling of having been written to, regardless of the circumstances. He had a letter from someone other than his mother, and that someone had been almost cheerful in their tone at that. He resolved to see the Headmaster immediately after breakfast the next morning and inform him of Petunia’s agreement to speak with him.

But for just a few precious hours longer, Severus Snape had a letter from a girl, just for him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We arrived at last to Severus' POV! My apologies on the delay, this chapter just did not want to be written... That being said, we will be moving right back to Petunia for the next, but expect more POV shifts in the coming chapters. We are very nearly out of the introductory arc of our tale!
> 
> Thank you again so very much for reading. Every comment and kudos means the world to me, and I always welcome any and all feedback. 
> 
> Till next time (in which Petunia plays hostess to the Headmaster and her partner in Operation Saving Lily's Life),
> 
> -TR


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor mention of the initial suicide attempt in this chapter. Please be cautious!

* * *

_15 th January, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

Despite having scrubbed down every last square inch of her flat the night before, and baking two dozen chocolate peanut butter biscuits early that morning, and going through the entirety of her closet till she picked what she deemed to be the most respectable and responsible looking skirt and blouse she owned, Petunia still felt woefully unprepared for what was to come in just a short while.

She had been enjoying a calm and quiet Saturday evening, draped over her couch in a most unladylike way and reading a gossip magazine when Dusty the owl had swooped in from her kitchen window once more, bearing another letter from Severus. This one was not sealed like the last, simply folded over in half, and shorter than the last.

_”Petunia,_

_The headmaster and I will be coming on Sunday (tomorrow) at half past noon._

_-Severus Snape”_

In her initial intense panic at seeing the word **tomorrow** , Petunia nearly missed the hasty and half-size smaller postscript just under his name.

“ _P.S_. - _I may take you up on your offer of correspondence. -S.S.”_

She could envision Severus quirking his lips downward into a frown as he begrudgingly scribbled in that last line, and saw him being annoyed with himself for admitting that he wanted to write to her at all. That mental image made her laugh a little to herself. For him, this was downright cordial, almost warm. Her trip to Spinner’s End had been on her mind since it occurred a few weeks earlier, and she found that she was pleased that he was opening up to her. Some of the doubt that had crept its way tight as a vine around her heart eased off from that knowledge that he was starting to accept and possibly even trust her.

And then the word Sunday slapped her about the face again, and Petunia bolted upright and bounded off the couch, making for her kitchen sink where the cleaning supplies were kept. She had not stopped her furious cleaning frenzy till well past midnight when she forced herself to set down her poor sponge and bucket and get a few hours of sleep.

The moment she awoke on Sunday morning she was double-checking her hygienic handiwork with a nod of self-assurance before setting to her baking, and ensuring that her best tea set was ready to go. She may not have had any career skills beyond typing, but if there was one thing that Petunia Evans – only Evans, no Dursley she reminded herself yet again for the hundredth time – knew she was good at, it was playing hostess. She may not have been the same caliber of baker and cook that her mother was, but she knew she had her own years of experience now and was not far behind.

All too soon the bell chimed at the front door, and Petunia felt her stomach threatening to turn its contents out onto the floor. She took a deep breath, a hand at her abdomen as she calmed herself. _“Count to five…it’s just a conversation…he has no reason to wish you harm and Severus is with him…”_. She crossed the front room in four strides and put a smile on her face before pulling the door open.

On the threshold stood the familiar figure of Dumbledore smiling down at her, still wearing loudly patterned robes, this time in a haphazard splatter of primary colors that looked as though it could have resulted from an artist throwing their palette at the canvas in frustration. Beside him and nearly his height stood Severus, looking far more normal in a pair of graying black trousers and an ill-fitted faded black button down that had also seen repeating washing from the look of it. The cuffs were rolled back a fair bit, and it frayed at the collar. The normalcy of it was refreshing in comparison.

“Good afternoon, Miss Petunia.” The headmaster inclined his head in greeting, smile warm but eyes serious. “Thank you for having us over on such short notice.”

Petunia’s smile wavered only for a moment before she had fixed it back in place, and looked from the older man to Severus beside him. Severus looked nervous himself, but gave a little nod at her as their eyes met. He turned away after that, using his hair to hide his expression as usual.

“Good afternoon. Please, come in. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ve just got some tea ready.” She swept her hand out gracefully to gesture them into her flat, poking her head out as soon as they passed her and looking both ways to see if anyone saw the odd pair enter. She breathed a little sigh of relief when the sidewalk turned out to be empty, and hurriedly locked the door behind herself.

Dumbledore and Severus had sat themselves down already, the headmaster taking the small lavender colored armchair opposite the coffee table and Severus had perched himself rigidly on the far end of the couch away from his headmaster. He sat stiffly, not even letting his back touch it and resting his hands against his knees as though unwilling to touch anything for fear of somehow damaging it. Petunia observed him a moment, and wondered with a frown if his off behavior was instinctual, or rather, self-preserving. She still didn’t know much about his home life, just enough from Lily to know that his father was out of work and rather mean. That was why Lily had only been to the Snape residence just the once, when she had walked to pick her up.

He turned and noticed her observing him, his brow furrowing. Embarrassed at having been caught out staring, Petunia bustled into the kitchen and got her tea tray ready, the blue and purple floral printed pot and the cups already set out, the matching sugar dish piled with a tidy little pyramid of cubes and the small pot of cream beside them. She balanced the tray on one hip, and slid the plate of biscuits onto it before she returned to the living room, setting the whole thing down.

“How do you take your tea, Headmaster?” she asked, settling down on the other cushion of the couch beside Severus. He seemed to scoot minimally away from her as she did, though there was already a foot between them on the cushions. She couldn’t tell if he was simply being shy and avoiding being too close, or if he was just trying to be respectful of her personal space.

“Do not trouble yourself with it, Miss Petunia. Allow me.” He glanced down at the tea set, and Petunia watched with wide eyes as the cups turned themselves over without a word, and the tea began to pour itself into them in turn. Sugar cubes floated up from the dish like parts on a conveyor line to drop a different number into each cup. Finally, the pot of cream raised itself up, and a splash of the liquid gently poured into each as the little tea spoons dipped into them to soundlessly stir it all together. The cups then floated to a stop in front of each of them.

It took Petunia several seconds to reach out and hesitantly take the cup from the air, slowly and carefully, as if expecting to meet resistance from the very air. Severus and Dumbledore had taken theirs already without a moment’s hesitance, both already drinking.

“…thank you.” She whispered meekly, both intimidated and impressed at once. How had he managed to do that without a magic wand? She decided that she didn’t want to find out, and instead took a sip of the tea and found it perfectly to her liking. She cleared her throat softly before addressing the man once more. “So then, I presume that Severus told you…something of the situation?”

“He did, yes. But I should like to hear it from your side, if you do not mind. I want to be sure that I do not miss anything, and hearing it in its entirety from the source would be best. No detail is too small, considering what we are facing in the wizarding world at present.”

That was what she had been afraid of. She had managed for the past few weeks to ignore the circumstances that had brought her here, to push aside the complicated feelings she still needed to deal with in regards to her at least semi-successful attempt at ending her life. But to tell this story properly, she would have to face the matter head on and she was not sure she was strong enough to do so.

Petunia could feel more than see both wizards’ eyes on her. “Alright. Just, please, this is all rather fresh for me and I-” she paused for breath, suppressing a shiver at her memories, a handful of pills and her shaking hand filling her thoughts, the feeling of them sliding down her throat returning – “I haven’t had time to properly sort through some of my feelings.”

“I can only imagine. But I can assure you that you will find no harsh judgement from either myself or Severus here. Am I correct in my assumption, my boy?”

As though alarmed at suddenly being addressed, Severus jolted on the couch and turned to find Petunia looking at him intently, looking for confirmation. For once, he did not turn his gaze or hide behind his hair, holding her look. There was an intimate pain in his dark eyes, suggesting that perhaps he understood better than she had realized at their first meeting. He had been too concerned with Lily’s fate and she had been all too eager to turn the attention from herself then. And now he was looking at her like she was a kindred spirit, someone that he shared a common bond of experience with. 

“I won’t judge you.” He stated plainly, voice far softer than she expected from him.

It was enough to bolster her. She softly thanked him in return, before turning her eyes back to the tea cup in her hands. “I suppose then that I should start at the circumstances of my…arrival.”

Silence descended on the living room as both Dumbledore and Severus listened with rapt attention. With as little detail as possible in some places she wove the basics of the story as she knew it, from her sister’s death at Voldemort’s hand to going into hiding years later at her nephew’s insistence. She left out the part where Severus had apparently died not long after that, so as not to shock him too severely. She proceeded then to the moment five years after all that where she had caught her husband – whom she had just broken up with in this current timeline and had zero intention of marrying again – in their own bed with another woman from his office. It took another cup of tea before she could carry on with telling them about her anxiety medication, and her intention to drift as painlessly as possible into her death. She left out her regrets over Lily and the other motivations for her suicide, deeming that far too private and painful. If she did not recount these facts as clinically and coldly as possible, she would weep, and she did not want that right now.

When Petunia reached the description of the strange device that the Dumbledore of her between-worlds place had used, the present Dumbledore leaned forward, his fingers steepled. Their eyes met briefly, and Petunia felt the strangest sensation of openness, and exposure. A shiver ran down the length of her spine, and she broke eye contact.

Dumbledore nodded and turned aside, but he seemed troubled. Petunia felt as though her blood had been frosted over. Anything that could trouble someone that powerful must have been serious. Setting down his tea cup, the old wizard turned back to them and spoke at last.

“The device that you have described to me sounds very much like something that a person I once held very dear had been attempting to create. A Time-Turner of sorts, but so much more. Something with the ability to move the very soul through time itself, a sort of way to correct past mistakes, as in your case. To return to your own past with knowledge of events to come is a great and terrible power. A way to perhaps forestall death almost indefinitely, but stronger than a Philosopher’s Stone would be by itself, by the very nature of its ability to start things anew and unwind time.”

Petunia felt Severus scoot backwards against the couch, as if to physically distance himself from the words. While she hadn’t understood half of what the old man had just said, she got the feeling that Severus most certainly had understood it all, and even she could see the awful possibilities that could come of something like that ending up in the wrong hands. 

The idea of something so powerful being used on someone like her was so absurd that Petunia had to question it. “If you had something like that why wouldn’t you have used it on my sister to begin with? Or any of the other people you lost? I’m not even one of you.”

“Something like that does not exist currently, Petunia. It would seem that my future self finally found a way to see Gellert’s old passion project to completion. I would presume that I must have had a breakthrough of sorts nearer to my own demise, but lacked the time or means to use it upon myself. One can theorize endlessly, but we have no way to confirm I am afraid. But-” he paused a moment here, smiling down at Petunia in a way that said he knew more than he was letting on, “-that is not to say, Petunia, that my older self simply chose you without good reason. Whatever he knew, he chose to appear to you for this. That is something to think on perhaps, the next time you are feeling less than worthy.”

Silence lay thick as molasses on the three of them as Petunia slumped back into the couch, her mind reeling with possibilities and magical theory she couldn’t entirely grasp. It still didn’t make sense to her why she would have been the one to be put back into her past.

“Let’s say that you’re right then, and your other self, he put me back here for a purpose. I wanted to save my sister and that is still my primary concern. But now that I’ve told you all I know, now what? How will I know that whatever I’ve told you has helped put things right and saved her?”

“It is entirely your choice, whether you wish to be involved any further in wizard affairs than you already are.” Dumbledore looked from Petunia to Severus, and gave a little sigh of resignation. “And Severus my boy…I do not even wish to ask what I must ask of you. And you both still have every reason and the full capacity to say no, and decline my request.”

Petunia turned to look at Severus, silently questioning him. Severus shrugged his shoulders inelegantly as though to say “I have no idea what he’s on about either”. They both turned back to the headmaster and waited for him to continue on to his offer.

“Severus, it seemed to me that you were now uncertain of your path. But to some of your fellow Slytherins past and present, you were quite adamant on joining the Death Eaters yourself and it would look rather strange if you suddenly changed your mind.”

The younger man’s voice was a whisper when he asked incredulously, “What you mean is you want me to go on and join them anyway, knowing what he’s capable of and who he’s already got on his side? Knowing that he’s going to kill my best friend?”

“TRY to kill. He hasn’t won yet!” Petunia stubbornly interjected, growing suddenly cross with him. “You can’t very well throw in the towel when we haven’t even begun!”

Dumbledore raised a hand for peace before Severus could retort, though Petunia knew she saw a flash of the familiar fighting spirit in him. Though her nerves were still raw and she was still ready to give him a telling off for his defeatist attitude, she ultimately pursed her lips in acquiescence.

“I know that it is difficult and I would not ask you if I did not have complete faith in you and your ability, Severus. You will need to learn a great many things before the school year is up if you are to have a chance at remaining undetected. But we have to have more information on the Death Eaters and their plans and motivations, and so I fear I must ask you to join their ranks after all. Having you upon the inside would be absolutely invaluable Severus. But it will be dangerous. You will be forced to do a great many things that most would find unconscionable at best.”

After a moment of pause, Petunia turned again to find Severus gripping his knees, nails digging in. He was as rigid as a statue. “I could well be walking into my own death, you know. If I’m found out talking to you or he looks into my mind and sees me even writing to you.”

The headmaster nodded in agreement. “That is a possibility I have considered. Though I will take you on personally to instruct you in Occlumency. You seem to have picked up on Legilimency quite well on your own. However, Occlumency alone will not be enough. And that, Miss Petunia, is where you factor into this, should you decide to.”

It took only a moment for Petunia to realize what he was implying. “You want me to help him spy for you. An intermediary of sorts, to pass messages along, be a safehouse or something like that?”

Dumbledore smiled with pride as though she were one of his students answering a question in class correctly. “Precisely so. If Severus were to be seen speaking with you or writing to you, whether it be through Voldemort looking into his memories or by someone spying on him, then one would presume he is simply interacting with a loved one, or perhaps playing suitor to you. No one would suspect that a Muggle woman would be working hand in hand with myself as part of our resistance.”

Again, the younger pair looked at each other. But this time, Petunia could not decipher Severus’ expression. One moment it seemed that he was looking for assurance, and the next it seemed like he wanted guidance. She watched his throat bob as he worked to swallow.

She rested a hand gently on top of his, taking care to use her mothering voice. It was odd to think, but Petunia found that she did not want to manipulate him into it, but rather genuinely wanted to give him some comfort to make his choice. “You already know that I’m willing to do anything to save my sister. And I’ve already said I consider us partners in this. I can’t imagine how dreadful it’s going to be, to do what you’ll have to do. But…well. You _are_ rather stubborn and I can’t see you quitting or giving up in anything. If it makes any difference, I’ll be here to help you. For…whatever good I can do.”

Severus would not look up at her, his eyes fixated on her pale hand over his own. He drew a shuddering breath and, in a rush as he exhaled he muttered “I’ll do it.”

Petunia let out the breath she had realized but not wanted to admit she was holding. She gave Severus’ hand a bracing squeeze. To her surprise he did not pull his hand away or flinch.

“Then we will begin your training as soon as we return to the castle, in that case. I will continue to think over our next course of action but for the moment Petunia, expect that Severus will be in regular correspondence with you starting very soon. I expect the pair of you will have to come to rely on one another shortly, as no one else must know of the very dangerous assignment you are undertaking. Not even Lily and James. And Petunia, you must know that your own life is very much in danger if Severus is discovered. Are you absolutely certain you are willing to risk this?”

Still covering Severus’ hand with her own, Petunia affirmed simply “I trust him”. And she found that it was the truth when she said it. She was not afraid of dying anymore, though having faced it once she had decided that she really would rather live as long as possible instead. She told herself that she had already come so far since coming back, that the old wilting Petunia was a thing of the past and she was going to be brave wherever and whenever possible. She had been craving help and guidance in all of this from the start, and if this was the way to take an even more active part in saving her sister and her future brother-in-law, then she would go forward with it, and join the fight this time.

“I cannot thank either one of you enough for the sacrifices you will be making. When all is said and done, your vital work will not be forgotten, I assure you.” The old wizard bowed his head in respect, almost reverently.

Unsure of what to say to something like that, she addressed Severus. “So. Suppose you will be taking me up on that offer whether you like it or not. You’re rather stuck with me now, aren’t you?”

His lips quirked into not quite a smile, but less of a frown than normal. “So it would seem. You truly are from another time. You never would have agreed to anything like this before.”

“It must be your winning personality charming me.” She retorted dryly.

The sarcasm was familiar for them both, natural, but for once it was without bite. It was almost teasing. Considering the daunting task before them, Petunia knew it was either make light, or be sick.

And even with her half-formed idea of the darkness they would be walking into, Petunia knew in her bones that they would need as much light as they could possibly get in the days to come.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the Dynamic Duo has formed - and we see the traces of the romance that will bloom sooner than we expect!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate and welcome any and all feedback and comments (and I read and reply to every single one so please know that I truly do care what you have to say).
> 
> Till next time (in which our 7th Years prepare for graduation day at Hogwarts!),
> 
> -TR


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only warnings for this chapter are slight mentions of past alcoholism and past child and spousal abuse. Very minor mentions, but please be cautious!

* * *

_10 th June, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

After her third attempt, Petunia gave a triumphant “A-ha!” as she managed at long last to tie her little package properly to Dusty’s right leg. Even the owl himself seemed proud of her as he hooted in approval, puffing up his feathers as he spread his wings and took an experimental flutter into the air.

“Not bad for a Muggle, huh? Only took me six months to figure it out.” she held up a peanut butter pretzel bit for the bird, who happily munched it right from her hand. Though initially a bit hesitant to put her hands too close to him, Dusty was now a familiar presence in her home and was starting to feel more like her pet than a mail courier. She wondered if Severus felt the same, and decided that she should ask him in her next letter after this.

The weeks had drifted by as threads, spinning themselves into months since her initial agreement with the headmaster, and in that time, Petunia had accumulated a thick stack of letters from Severus. As she had first observed what felt like ages ago now, once he had a captive audience he could talk endlessly, and the same was even truer of his writing. Some of the letters filled what felt like entire scrolls of parchment, some written on back and front, sometimes in the margins as he remembered something else that he had meant to say earlier on. The first letters were very detached, and to the point; he would tell her of his magical training with the headmaster, of things that he had overheard from classmates, listing people he knew for a fact were looking to enlist with the Death Eaters.

What he had likely not been expecting was for Petunia to begin asking questions of him when she wrote back. Figuring it best to know more about what she was putting herself into, and finally feeding that curiosity that still hungered for magical knowledge, she began to ask him to elaborate on things, on how Wizard money worked, on why they used quills and ink instead of regular muggle writing instruments – Severus had written back what Petunia could only describe as a treatise on the merits of the elegant and ancient art of writing by quill and the skill required – and she had started to ask more about him and his feelings in an effort to coax him further out of his shell.

And the most curious thing was that it had actually started to work. Just like when he had opened up at his kitchen table, Severus began to express more of himself in his writing. Petunia learned of his passion for potions early on – “ _There is a level of mastery required for potion making that not everyone has. I’m good at it and I actually enjoy it. There’s something about creating a potent brew from mostly ordinary ingredients that moves me.”_ he had written once. She learned slowly about his alcoholic father who he had finally run off, hopefully for good – “ _I had run him out the night before you showed up at my door. I had thought you were him at first.” –_ about his Witch mother Eileen, who was currently in poor health from years of his father’s abuse – “ _She didn’t tell him she was a Witch until after I was born, and he did not take it well. Losing his job in my earlier years did not improve his attitude.” –_ and about the day to day political goings-on within the Ministry of Magic, as told by The Daily Prophet. 

In return, she would tell him about things going on in the Muggle world - about the economy, about new music she was fancying and how she spent her spare time on weekends. It felt like just a pair of friends writing to one another while one was away at boarding school, rather than a forty-five-year-old time displaced woman writing to her eighteen-year-old spy-to-be partner in Magical crime fighting.

Now, with graduation for both Severus and her little sister, Petunia had been frantically shopping after work for the past week to find a suitable gift for both him and Lily. Lily had been easy enough once she finally had gotten into the right store; Petunia had seen a lovely little oval-shaped gold locket with matching hoop earrings in the jewelry case while walking through Harvey Nichols. The locket had a lovely rose etched on its front, and while it wasn’t a lily, their family always did have an affinity for flowers. Petunia had bought it that very moment, and asked that it be engraved with her sister’s initials L.J.E on the inside of the locket’s cover. She had already wrapped it and it lay waiting on her dresser to take with her when she and her parents departed for the ceremony at the end of the next week.

But Severus’ gift could not be given in person just by virtue of the secretive nature of their partnership – which was really becoming more of a friendship whether Severus would admit to that or not – and so when Dusty dropped off her latest letter from Severus, Petunia entreated the owl for its help in delivering her gift. It had taken far longer and been harder to come by than her sister’s present, and she couldn’t help her nervousness, hoping that it would be well received. She prided herself on her gift giving, a part of her old joy in being a good hostess, she supposed.

“Alright Dusty…back to school you go. Have a safe flight.” She added, genuinely concerned for the well-being of the little thing. After this many weeks, she no longer felt quite as silly talking to the creature and Severus had confided that he did as well, since they were highly intelligent animals and more like humans that people realized.

The owl flew in a little circle around Petunia, and was off a moment later.

* * *

_11 th June, 1978 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

In the privacy of his bed, curtains drawn closed on what he hoped would be a lazy Sunday afternoon, Severus contemplated the two pieces of mail in front of him, dropped off one after the other at breakfast earlier that morning. Dusty had dropped off a small parcel from Petunia that had him wildly curious to know the contents, but before he could even fathom why it was a parcel and not her usual letter, a sleek Eagle owl had swooped down and dropped an elegant letter before him as well, addressed from the Malfoys. He had not been expecting anything from them, but with his graduation only a few days away Severus knew it was only a matter of time before Lucius reached out to him about his ever-impending initiation into the Death Eaters.

Deciding to save the more cheerful of the two for last in case he needed a palate cleanser, Severus reached for the letter first and broke the silver wax seal bearing the Malfoy family crest. Inside the cream-colored parchment envelope was a formal invitation to the Malfoy family Summer Garden Social at the end of the month, and a small note in Lucius’ hand that informed him this was to be an introductory event for him to meet other members of the Inner Circle and make a favorable impression.

“Charming. A party. Why could this not have just begun with torturing someone…” he muttered to himself, flopping back against his pillows. Severus knew better than anyone that he was not adept at navigating social events, for all his skill at other things. He supposed he could ask Petunia about such things, as he knew she loved to host gatherings and such in her past life. Thinking of Petunia reminded him of the delivery from Dusty, and so he forced himself to sit up and take the small box into his lap. It was relatively small but heavy enough, perfectly wrapped in plain brown paper.

He undid the twine around it and methodically peeled up the tape, unwrapping it cautiously as though afraid it may explode or transfigure suddenly. Years of being in the same school as Potter and Black had conditioned him to trust nothing and no one. Finally, he had exposed the box within and pulled open the flaps. Reaching inside, he pulled out the enclosed card first. It was a Muggle graduation card, with a smiling stick figure in a cap and gown on the front of it with the words “YOU DID IT!” spreading across the top. As much as he had tried to distance himself from his half-Muggle heritage, Severus was amused by the silly little card and still quite touched that Petunia had sent something to him for his graduation.

He flipped open the card and read her very short note, trying not to be overly disappointed by the lack of a longer letter. In between the grueling Occlumency lessons with the headmaster, trying to avoid having to see Potter and Lily around the campus, and blending in with his fellow Death Eater recruits, he had come to look forward to her letters as an escape, almost as if he was just writing letters home to an old friend.

_“Dear Severus,_

_Congratulations on your graduation! I apologize that I can’t deliver these in person, for the obvious reasons, but I hope that you like them and find them useful. I know that we can’t speak to one another at the ceremony, but please know that I am there to support you as well. If you’re able to, I’d like if you came by on the following Sunday, 18/06 so that we can discuss our future correspondence now that school is through for you. Let me know if you think you’ll be able to make it._

_Sincerely,_

_-Petunia”_

Severus wasn’t sure he liked the way his stomach fluttered immediately at the open invitation to come visit her. Already he felt like he was perhaps too invested in this, and not focused enough on the spying duties that he was already actively engaging in here in his own House. But still, she had been kind so far, and he had enjoyed chatting with her through their letters. Just letting some of his troubles out and sharing part of himself with her had been freeing in a strange way.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he reached into the box and pulled the other contents free. The first item he held up was a bottle of black ink, followed by a jet-black raven-feather quill. After examination he found that they were Muggle-made, but seemed to be of a very fine quality. Beneath that in the box lay a small black leather-bound notebook with thick cream-colored pages, simple but also of the best quality. Given how he had written an embarrassingly long section to her once about how much of a lost art penmanship and calligraphy was, it seemed Petunia had taken that to heart and sought to give him a highly practical gift. His stomach fluttered again in affection, and gratitude for what must have taken a good deal of effort on her part to find. 

He was set to banish the rubbish before hesitating, and instead folding the wrapping and the twine and setting them back inside the box. Deep down Severus knew it was very foolish of him, but he had never been given a gift of this caliber before and he wanted to keep every part of it, packaging included. It was when he picked up the notebook again to put it away and flipped through its pages on a whim that something small and silver in color dropped from the front of the notebook. It must have been tucked tightly between the binding of the book and the first page to not fall free, he decided as he picked up the mystery object.

Turning it over in his hand, it took him a long moment before he could figure out that it was a cloak pin, of the old Celtic tradition if he had to guess just from the twisting knot design on either end of the open circular points. It was heavy in his palm and very likely real silver judging from the way it gleamed. The design was simple but elegant, and certainly worth far more than anything else he owned. Now he was very curious as to where Petunia had found such a thing, and how she had thought to get it in the first place. Cloak pins and broaches were still very much in fashion with the Wizarding world’s upper class, and this was the first one he had seen that actually suited his rather plain tastes. Feeling overwhelmingly grateful at her thoughtful and likely expensive gifts, Severus pulled out a sheaf of parchment and his brand-new quill, and set to writing her a thank-you letter immediately.

* * *

_16 th June, 1978 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

As he looked around the dormitory that he had shared with Mulciber, Avery, Rosier, and Wilkes for the past seven years, Severus felt a sense of loss and no small shortage of unease. His pureblood roommates had mostly accepted him into the fold, and till very recently they had shared a common goal, if not common ideas. They were never really friends, he supposed as he reflected on it. His blood status, though overlooked now, still made him a second-class person in the unspoken hierarchy of their relationships. Not a one of them had stood up for him over the years, and none of them had intervened when the Incident happened in fifth year. But their companionship and their approval of him was all he had for a good portion of his time here, especially after Lily turned her back on him.

While he would miss what Hogwarts was supposed to represent for him, Severus did not know that it would truly be that hard to leave. Hogwarts had never been what it ought to have been for him. While he had some small amount of good memories here, there was more pain than pleasure in this castle for him, in the place that was supposed to be his safe haven.

Trunk packed for the final time, the Muggle dress clothes under his robes having been put through whatever mending charm he could think of, his worn dress shoes shined as best as possible, he departed the dormitory and made his way to the common room. Severus figured he would never be here again, and as much as he had hated how cold it could get down here, he would miss the “windows” that opened up into a view of the Great Lake, and the comfort of the green torchlight around the room. Whatever bad memories he held of the rest of the school, Slytherin House had been more of a home than Spinner’s End, an escape from his father’s heavy hand – literal and figurative.

“Will you miss it much, you think?”

Severus turned to find Regulus coming from his own dorm room, fastening his robes and tucking what appeared to be a Quidditch book into his bag.

“In some ways I will. In others…no. Not at all.” Severus replied. “Come to see me off?”

To his surprise, Regulus nodded. “Yes, actually. Not to be a sappy Hufflepuff but I’ll actually miss having you around. You’re not bad, you know, for a half-blood.” The younger Black winked at him, a grin on his handsome face as he teased. 

“However shall I survive without you regaling me with tales of your hedonism?” he teased back. “What will I do with myself without my daily dose of Regulus Black?”

Regulus laughed and treated him to a rare, genuine smile. “You’ll see me around sooner than you think. I’ll be sure to catch you up on my exploits whenever you do.”

Severus held his hand out to shake by way of goodbye, only for Regulus to surprise him once more and actually hug him, throwing his arms around the older boy’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Sev. For being my friend. I don’t have many. Not true ones, anyway.” He whispered.

Feeling a bit awkward with the sudden physical contact but moved by Regulus’ little declaration of them as friends, Severus reached a hand up to pat Regulus on the back stiffly. “You’re welcome.”

He found himself smiling at Regulus as they parted, to his own surprise. They exchanged their goodbyes, and Severus made his way out of the common room for the final time.

* * *

By the time Severus reached the entrance to the Great Hall where his fellow Seventh Years were assembled, the nerves had finally started to affect him. It wasn’t every day that one graduated, and he knew the nerves were natural, but they were exacerbated by the reality that he was stepping into the Wizarding World as an adult now – and stepping into the war.

He found his roommates in the middle, squeezing his way past a few Ravenclaw girls who were staring longingly across the way at Sirius Black as he chatted up a fellow Gryffindor, McKinnon he thought her name may have been. Seeing a few of his peers wearing their family heirloom rings or broaches, he finally remembered to take his own cloak pin from Petunia out of his pocket, and fastened his school robes with it. Avery noticed it and nodded approvingly at him. Severus made note to tell Petunia later about that. She hadn’t written back after his thank you, he remembered with a frown, trying to not be too disappointed. He had also informed her that he would come to her flat on Sunday as she asked, so he thought that perhaps the nearness of that date made her deem it unnecessary.

A hush settled over the graduates as Professor McGonagall arrived and raised a hand for quiet. Even Severus had a healthy fear of the Scottish witch, and snapped to attention immediately.

The professor looked over the assembled students before addressing them. “Congratulations on reaching the end of your education. You entered these halls as children and leave now as adults.” She seemed to look at every single one of them in turn as she slowly ran her gaze over them. There was a small snicker from the students in the back as McGonagall’s gaze lingered on whom Severus could only presume were the four infamous troublemakers from her own house.

As her gaze continued to sweep over them, Severus thought that the professor looked more stone-faced than usual before she continued. “You are leaving Hogwarts at an uncertain time. As many of you are aware, there is discord in our community. But no matter what the beliefs are out there, no matter what side your family or even the person standing beside you may stand on, know that Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home. I hope that you are leaving here with a better sense of who you are, as a person. I hope that you will take great care and give consideration to the legacy you will be leaving. Now, just as you arrived here, you will be departing by boat across the Great Lake to reunite with your families. Now off with you, and in an orderly manner if you please!”

The students turned towards the open door that would lead them to the stairs, and made their way slowly down to the dock where the enchanted boats awaited. Dutifully filing into one of them with his roommates, Severus found he had no desire to engage in their thinly veiled discussion of their “summer plans” – he felt sick, to be truthful – but he made himself listen dutifully. Rosier and Wilkes it seemed had also received invitations to the Malfoy garden party, and were discussing what eligible pureblood girls they hoped were in attendance. Rosier being invited made sense, as he was a cousin or some such relation to Narcissa. Wilkes’ family was only of middle class, but his father and Lucius’ father were old schoolmates. Severus wondered to himself if he should tell them now that he had been invited too, or if he should just relish their shock later that a half-blood was allowed on Malfoy Manor grounds. He decided to hold that information for later, just for the pleasure of seeing how they reacted.

All too soon, the fleet of boats arrived at the opposite shore of the lake. They disembarked and filed into lines as the groundskeeper Hagrid rounded them up to lead them down the small wooded pathway, and towards Hogsmeade Station at last.

* * *

Though she was more comfortable with the magical world than ever before, and she wasn’t the one graduating, Petunia felt residual nerves and had to fight the urge to chew her lower lip, lest she peel up the skin yet again and bruise it. Seated beside her parents in her favorite pastel pink summer dress and matching floral hat and shoes, she looked around in wonder at the various magical people around them. Their fashion choices ranged from “normal” wizards robes over fairly normal trousers and sweaters, to what she could only think of as “fairy-tale wizard” in appearance. Dumbledore’s fashion choices seemed rather bland when compared to some of the color and pattern choices she was seeing.

The whole morning leading up to this had been a strange affair, really. Her parents had received word from the Ministry of Magic the week before that an Auror – a wizard policeman she was proud to explain to them all on her own over the phone – would be arriving at nine o'clock in the morning to safely escort them to and from Hogwarts. According to the official notice, this was apparently the standard for all-Muggle families whose only magical member was the student, as they had no other means of getting to the school themselves. She had made the drive back to her family home very early in order to wait with her parents, and had been ready to go when the doorbell chimed.

Upon opening the door to greet the Auror they had sent, Petunia had to remind herself to be polite and not stare at the criss-crossing of scars over the tall, broad-shouldered man’s face, and meet his piercing, dark-eyed stare instead. He had leaned a little on his strange-looking walking stick, introducing himself in a gruff voice as Auror Moody before glancing behind her to see into the house.

“Hmph. You’re Petunia, then?” he asked in a tone that almost implied he didn’t believe she was.

“Yes, I am.” She confirmed. As he continued to stare a moment later, Petunia had arched a brow at him. “What, do you need to test my blood or something? Or have I got something on my face?”

The Auror shook his head, his long dark hair falling back over his shoulder as a result. “No. Was making sure you lined up with what Dumbledore told me of you. I chose to escort you and your parents to meet you myself.”

That certainly got her attention, especially when the headmaster had been very clear that no one else was to know about her arrangement. Wondering if this was some sort of test the man had arranged, she also looked around to ensure they were alone, before asking Moody quietly “How much did he tell you of the…arrangement?”

“Only that you’re a part of our network and working with another unknown agent. All I need to know. In my line of work that’s par for the course. And I only know because you may need protecting at some point. But if you’re good at your job, I shouldn’t have to. Either way, be vigilant – constantly.”

Though Petunia had more she wanted to ask of the man, her parents finally finished preparing to leave and showed up behind her. After another perfunctory introduction, Auror Moody gestured for the family to follow him into their own backyard. He produced a pocket watch from inside his coat, and instructed the three Evans to each take hold of the long watch chain and not let go under any circumstances until he told them it was alright. He advised them all to close their eyes and brace, which Petunia did after a moment of lamenting that the claws of his wooden right leg were ruining the perfect grass that she had painstakingly helped her mother grow lush and bright green.

She had the sensation of something pulling behind her navel, and felt her stomach twist unpleasantly as she began to feel weightless. Closing her eyes tighter, Petunia heard her mother exclaim “Good heavens!” beside her, and she held her breath against the wave of nausea that passed through her. Mercifully, it ended not longer after, and Petunia had to regain her balance before falling. Her father looked pale when she opened her eyes, and Auror Moody was helping her mother stand upright. For his grizzled appearance, he seemed to be a gentleman at least. He let them know that it was alright to let go of the watch chain, and after some coaxing, the three Muggles did.

“Welcome to Hogsmeade. Follow me this way, I’ll get you to your seats. When the ceremony is over don’t wander off. I’ll come to collect you and take you home.”

Under the Auror’s watchful eyes, Petunia and her parents had dutifully come to sit in one of the tidy rows of white chairs that had been arranged near a little countryside train station, where the Hogwarts Express sat quietly, no steam rising from its engines. Her parents had begun to make polite small talk with the witches and wizards who had begun to arrive and fill in the seats around them, and Moody had gone over to talk with a few people who wore similar badges to the one on his coat.

Petunia had simply looked around and smiled and nodded politely to the other arrivals, still not confident enough in this world to attempt a conversation for fear of embarrassing herself.

After a lifetime of waiting, a hush drew over the assembly of loved ones as the Headmaster himself came to stand at a podium erected at the front of the chairs. Behind him were more empty white chairs, presumably for the students themselves.

“Good morning, everyone. On behalf of the rest of my staff at Hogwarts, I welcome you to this ceremony where we shall celebrate the completion of our students' education, and their first steps into adulthood. As we await the arrival of our graduates from their symbolic journey across the lake, allow me to impart the wisdom of the tale of Digby the Elder.”

She didn’t know whether she was relieved or irritated that Wizard graduation ceremonies were apparently as boring and overly long as Muggles ones. With a sigh, Petunia sat up and attempted to at least try to pay attention.

* * *

“-and with the conclusion of that rousing speech from our Head Boy, James Potter – I now declare this, the class of 1978, official graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

With Dumbledore’s announcement, a cheer went up among the students. Wands were raised in the air, sparks erupting in the various house colors. Some students even flung their little-worn traditional pointed black hats into the air in celebration. Even Severus, for all his normal lack of joy, found himself shooting green and silver sparks into the sky. It was impossible to not catch some of the infectious good cheer of his peers around him.

Finally allowed to disperse, he began to weave his way through his peers as they found their family members. Having no one waiting for him, he had wanted to get on the train early, before the others years could arrive and fill it, leaving him with limited options. And then he heard his name. He turned to his left and was shocked to see his mother standing there, pushing her way through.

“Mum?” he asked in disbelief. Not only did Eileen rarely leave the house other than to go to the market, but since marrying his father she had not stepped foot anywhere remotely magical. To see her standing in Hogsmeade, wearing dress robes of all things, was almost unfathomable.

Still frail, Eileen Snape nevertheless closed the distance to her now-taller son swiftly. Face as serious and solemn as always, her eyes showed her softness towards her son, who was a fair hand at deciphering facial expressions and small gestures. It was one of the survival skills borne of years under Tobias Snape’s abusive watch that he knew would come in handy later.

“Did you think I would miss your graduation, my dearest?”

Severus blinked at her. She appeared to be sober, she was in sound state of mind, and not in one of her emotionally disturbed episodes. She had still called him her dearest, which she only did when she was feeling weak and he was tending to her. She had not called him such under any other, more pleasant circumstances in many years.

“…Truthfully? I hadn’t thought you well enough to leave home, let alone to come all the way to Hogsmeade.”

The hurt and the shame was etched on her face. She turned away, her long dark hair hiding her eyes in a manner identical to her son’s. “I’ve not been. Not for some time. But I’ve missed much of your magical education since you started school and I could not allow myself to miss this as well.”

It would not make up for the ways that he felt she had failed him as a parent, nor would it make his bitterness immediately fade. But Eileen’s health had been rapidly improving since he stood up to his bastard father, and Severus still loved and cared for her despite her shortcomings. He took his mother’s arm gently to guide her away from the crowds. “How did you arrive, mum?”

“Just because I’ve not Apparated in a long time does not mean I’ve forgotten how, Severus. Though I will perhaps linger in the village for a bit after you’ve boarded the train. Apparition over such a distance after so many years took quite a bit of my strength.”

While he was worried about her slipping into the Hog’s Head for a pint, Severus could only nod at her and hope she did the right thing. He was going to offer to wait and just go home with her on a side-along or try to Apparate them himself, having passed his Apparition exam over the Easter holiday, when a cheer went up among a large group across the area.

Severus turned to see what the noise was about and felt his heart rip in half. Potter was on bended knee in front of Lily, and from the way that she was covering her mouth and holding out her hand, Severus knew that just as Petunia said, Lily would be a Potter soon enough.

Even knowing it was coming, and knowing that Lily did not love him in a romantic sense, and accepting that perhaps his own feelings for her had started to change, it still did not lessen the blow when he saw Potter slide the ring onto her hand, and stand to kiss her so passionately.

“Isn’t that the little Evans girl you used to tell me about?” Eileen inquired delicately.

Without looking away, Severus responded as emotionless as possible “Yes, mum.”.

He tore his eyes away from Potter as his idiot friends and all the onlookers cheered for him, and by chance he spotted Petunia and her parents nearby. Their eyes met across the distance.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Lily to find Petunia and her parents after the ceremony. The younger Evans sister was a ball of excitement and joy as she hugged and kissed her parents, then embraced her elder sister tight as she could. Petunia swore she felt her back crack under the pressure.

“Oh Tuney you came! I mean I know you said you would but I’m still so happy to see you!” she exclaimed, kissing her sister on the cheek before pressing their faces together happily.

Laughing, Petunia returned her sister’s kiss on the cheek with one of her own. “I’m always of my word, come now! Congratulations. I’m very proud of you. You had a nice little speech too, Miss Head Girl. Very different from your boyfriend’s.”

“Aw c’mon Tunes, you didn’t like my speech? Not even the part about our best pranks?” James put on a face like he was deeply offended, a hand over his heart as he came up behind Lily and draped an arm around her shoulders.

“Just riveting, James.” Petunia rolled her eyes, but smiled at him nonetheless.

“THERE you are, Prongs! Don’t leave me like that darling.” Sirius Black appeared seemingly from nowhere as well, draping his arms over James’ shoulders in imitation of what he was doing to Lily.

Behind Sirius were two other boys now, one short and rather doughy, with watery brown eyes and mousy brown hair, and the other tall and thin with a few scars across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, light brown hair and green eyes that rivaled Lily’s own.

“Thank you for leaving us behind, Padfoot. No really, no need to apologize.” The taller boy said mildly. While his tone was gentle and polite, as if to be placating, there was mischief in his eyes, and Petunia could tell he was the type to mask his sarcastic tendencies under his kindness with ease.

“All of you behave!” Lily commanded. “Honestly at least Peter had the sense to not spout off first thing before I could introduce you properly!”

The four friends looked sheepishly at the redhead, who turned to her family. “Mum, dad, Petunia – you already know James of course. Tuney you met Sirius, Mum and Dad this is James’ best friend Sirius Black. These are his other best friends. Remus Lupin.” She gestured to the taller boy, who waved and smiled politely, before pointing to the short boy, who waved. “And Peter Pettigrew.” 

“Pleasure to meet you all.” Petunia put on her hostess smile again and held out a hand. Despite having met her before, Sirius still took her hand and pulled it to his mouth to kiss the back of it lightly.

She simply fixed him with a look of “Really?” before offering her hand to Remus.

Remus shook it firmly. “A pleasure to finally meet you. We’ve heard the story of your dinner date at least fifty times from James. The details grew more exaggerated with each re-telling.”

Already laughing again, Petunia shook her head as she offered her hand to Peter. He shook it rather eagerly, pumping it up and down like a character in a cartoon. “Yes, yes, it gets better each time!”

Petunia and Lily were distracted by James’ friends as they began to recount some of the wild additions James had made to the story. As a result, neither of the girls noticed that James had stepped to the side in private conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Evans until he walked back up and cleared his throat. His four friends cleared a path aside, and Sirius made a little “psst” sound under his breath and gestured for Petunia to do the same. She figured out what was happening a moment before James dropped down on one knee suddenly in front of a shocked Lily. While Petunia knew they were engaged very shortly after graduation, she had never cared enough to ask for the details, having been off and married to Vernon in her own little world by now where she had come from.

While thinking of the past, Petunia missed the actual words that James said, but she tuned back in just in time to hear Lily squeal and say yes, and James’ friends as well as the people around them began to cheer when they figured out what was happening. The cheers grew louder as Lily clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries of delight, and held her hand out for James to place the ring on.

Something in her gut made Petunia look up, and she found Severus standing across the field with a tall and serious looking woman she could only assume was his mother. Mrs. Snape looked strikingly like her son, the resemblance plain as day between them, from the dark hair and eyes, to the protruding nose and sharp cheekbones. Her eyes met Severus’ across the distance.

Expecting him to still be heartbroken, she gave him a sympathetic smile. To her amazement, rather than make a sour face or an angry one, Severus looked directly at her and, for the first time she could ever remember, he smiled at her. It was tinged with sorrow, but it was a genuine smile.

She expected that they would of course have to talk about this at least a little bit on Sunday when he came to call. And she knew that there was no way he was alright with this, despite knowing from her that this would inevitably happen, sooner rather than later. But Petunia also knew that if sour, serious Severus Snape could find the strength to smile despite this, that he was going to be alright.

If nothing else, Petunia was willing to admit to herself that her growing fondness of the boy meant she would try her hardest to make things be alright. She would be strong enough for both of them, if she had to be. It was, after all, what partners did – they supported each other until the other could stand on their own again. And, surprising herself most of all, Petunia found that she _wanted_ to support him. It caused her heart to flutter in her chest enough that she put a hand over it.

She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness! This was a long one and took a fair bit out of me mentally!
> 
> A note about Regulus' years of Hogwarts attendance: I know that canonically Regulus actually attended from 72-79, but for the sake of my story and a few things I have planned for him, I've adjusted his age to be two years younger than Sirius, thus putting his attendance from 73-80 instead. I've adjusted some other years of attendance but those will matter more later, so I won't mention them just yet.
> 
> By and large, I try to defer to canon wherever possible, blending book and film canon as well as my own headcanons and the collected fanon and fan theories I've agreed with over the years. While it is an alt-verse, I do try for some canonicity where possible. Any liberties or mistakes are wholly my own, and if you notice something seems off or out of place, please do let me know so I can look at it or make corrections where needed!
> 
> Thank you as always for reading. I really appreciate it. I haven't written a long, multi-chapter fic like this in YEARS (in literally over a decade) and it is your feedback and positive reception that is keeping me going, so THANK YOU!!!
> 
> As always I welcome all feedback / comments / critique, and I do read and reply to every single one so I definitely care what you have to say. 
> 
> Till next time (in which Severus learns far more than he ever cared to know about socializing),  
> -TR


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings here other than some foul and derogatory language. Still, be cautious!

* * *

_18 th June, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

As Petunia had expected, Severus took the first twenty or so minutes of his visit to vent his frustrations about James Potter, and how he would be a terrible husband. She had listened in silence as she prepared lunch, while he sat at the small kitchen table sipping the tea she had fixed him and ranted, and he probably would have gone on another twenty minutes more if she hadn’t tired of it eventually and told him that it was a good thing _he_ wasn’t marrying James then, since he was so lacking of the traits Severus was looking for.

The look he had given her could have turned milk in a moment, but Petunia wasn’t intimidated by him and had simply met his sour look with an impassive stare till he took the hint and stopped.

“Are you quite done pouting? You didn’t even exchange any pleasantries with me, or ask how my past two days had been, or what I thought of the graduation, nothing. Just straight on to James. It’s not healthy to hold on to that much, Severus.” She tsk-ed at him as she refilled his cup.

He opened his mouth to speak, a bit red in the face, but she cut him off once more before he could say anything foolish. “And yes, I am aware of what he put you through, and no I don’t like it one bit either and if I could give him a telling off for it on your behalf trust me I would.” Severus closed his mouth and some of the residual anger in him seemed to burn off into embarrassment.

Fidgeting in his chair a little, he hunched his shoulders as he folded his arms across his chest. “…You may not have noticed Petunia but I can’t just let things go.”

She pointed a finger at him. “Ah ah – you _can_ let it go. But I’ll admit it’s…it’s very difficult. You can’t make him suddenly feel bad for all he’s done. But you can choose to be a better man despite that and rise above it, and hope that he gets what he deserves from it if he doesn’t learn his lesson. That’s probably what Lil was trying to get through that thick head of yours.”

As if to accentuate her point, Dusty came to land right on Severus’ head, causing the teen to wince as talons settled against his scalp. He flicked his eyes up in annoyance, but said nothing.

Petunia had been surprised but delighted upon opening the door and finding the owl there too, perched on Severus’ shoulder like he’d always been there. The headmaster had apparently decided to “retire” the owl from the school’s service and instead send him with Severus to bring to Petunia. She wasn’t sure if that meant Dusty was her pet or Severus’ pet or _their_ pet, but since she was so fond of the bird now and finally used to owl post, she was relieved to not have that familiarity snatched away.

“If you keep on me like this, next thing I know you’ll want me to call you mother.” Severus complained, his arms still crossed as he continued to sulk.

That coldness in her that came whenever she had an anxiety attack or thought about her previous life too much came to settle in Petunia’s chest again. She quietly set a plate with a cold cut sandwich and homemade pasta salad before him and began to put things away. Guilt was clawing at her insides, over her child that she missed and had to not think about in order to just get by with it.

Severus must have felt he did something wrong, because when she turned around again, he looked stricken. “I’m…I’m sorry, Petunia. If I hurt your feelings.”

She didn’t know if she was more shocked that he had apologized, or that he had even noticed something was troubling her that severely. Severus was not the type to apologize for anything, but he had, even though he truly hadn’t done anything wrong here, and hadn’t meant to drag up her emotions.

“No need to apologize, Severus. You did nothing wrong. Lord knows I’m used to your sharpness by now.” She gave him a little smile, but her heart was only halfway in it, thoughts of Dudley still floating back up to the surface and causing her to ache from missing him.

Severus shook his head, and looked at her intently as if thinking on something. Finally, he had a thought and leaned in a little, speaking quietly. “It’s because of the mother comment, isn’t it? It reminded you of your son from your other life?”

It shouldn’t have surprised her, really. Severus was very observant and highly intelligent and she had opened up to him just a little bit more about her past, enough for him to find out that she had been a very doting mother in her past life. She hadn’t been able to bear telling him too much more, opting instead to only speak of her present life in their letters.

Since the two of them were becoming friends and he had been so open with her over the past few months, Petunia decided that it was time to practice her own preaching about trusting one another and being partners, and perhaps let some of her sorrow out to one of the only two people she could.

She nodded her head just slightly. “I try to not really think about him much. Because it…it hurts. Thinking that I abandoned him, and that perhaps he’s upset with me for it. He was already grown, and already married when I…when I…” she found herself unable to say it, even months later.

“When you died.” Severus supplied the rest for her. “Did you ever give him any reason to think that you didn’t love him, at the end? Or any reason to think it had anything to do with him?”

“No. No quite the opposite I would hope. Dudley never lacked for anything and we spoiled him – too much in fact, he came out to be…he was a bully, for a long time. I just turned a blind eye to it. I take a share in that blame for letting him behave that way. He was especially awful to my nephew.”

“To Lily’s…” he trailed off, trying to work the words out of his mouth. It took a moment before he could try again. “To Lily and Potter’s son.”

Petunia patted his arm with a small, proud smile. “See we’re both getting better at saying difficult things now. Suppose that’s progress for us both isn’t it? Yes. To Lily and James’ son. I owe that child so much love and affection that I could have given him…when he’s born, I’ll get it right this time. So now you see it wasn’t your retort that made me feel sad. It was something I’ve been holding in.”

Severus’ shoulders relaxed a little as the tension ebbed out of him before her eyes. She thought it was rather cute that he had been worried about hurting her feelings or offending her. She puzzled for a moment if cute was the right word, but for lack of a better one she decided to let it be.

“I’m sure your son…he must’ve known…” Severus chewed at his lower lip in thought, clearly irritated at his inarticulate start. “I’m sure you were a good mother in some ways, even if you were a very poor aunt. If your son had any brains at all he wouldn’t be cross with you for your death.”

She started to cry a little at that before she could help it, sniffling and attempting to stem the flow before she could really get going. She again lay her hand on his arm, but squeezed it gently this time in an affectionate gesture that caused his cheeks to go a little pink. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you to say. And don’t fret, I know how you meant it to come across.” She picked up a napkin and dabbed at her eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

“Alright, enough about me. You mentioned in your last letter that there was a party coming up with some Death Eaters and soon-to-be ones, right? Tell me everything you know about these Malfoys and their friends. I’ve got so much to teach you and so little time to do it!”

Severus looked startled at her enthusiasm. She almost pitied him; when he had asked her of all people about how to behave at a social event, he had no idea what he was getting into. The boy was about to find out far more than he probably ever wanted to know about etiquette, gossip, and glamour.

* * *

It was nearly dinner time when Petunia was done going over all of the notes she had prepared over the past few days since she had first received Severus’ last letter. Feeling that he had picked up enough of the basics for now, she slid the stack of neatly hand-written notes over to him to study later.

Severus looked from the stack of papers to her, and back to the papers, and back to her once more with a little smirk. “You know Petunia sometimes you are so much like your sister that its frightening. If you cross indexed these bloody things, I swear…”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Now I wish I had, just to get a rise out of you.” She stood from her chair across from him at the table and stretched her arms over her head. From his current perch on the top of the fridge, Dusty stretched his wings as well. Petunia glanced up to the owl. “Where on Earth am I going to make a nest for an owl in my flat? What do they even eat when they aren’t begging treats out of you? I never even liked birds before this. They terrified me, truthfully.”

Severus looked puzzled himself. “I’ve never actually had a pet. Owls mostly eat mice and such I believe. I’m sure he can take care of himself if you leave a window open. Suppose we can research it.”

Petunia hummed thoughtfully, regarding the owl a moment longer before turning her attention back to her guest. “Alright, enough of the book work. Now we move to the practical part – the dancing.”

He merely blinked at her slowly. “Beg your pardon? The _what?_ ”

“The dancing. This is a garden party. If the Malfoys are as “old and noble” as you say they are then I would imagine there would be some sort of social dancing. Especially if this is to be an introduction event. Like a debutante presentation, you know?”

From his face, he clearly did **not** know. Impatiently, Petunia waved her hand to dismiss it. “Read a Muggle book once in awhile why don’t you? Come on now, up with you.”

Like the put-upon teenager that he was, Severus groused as he stood up and followed her back into the living room.

“Just need to move the coffee table out of the way and – oh!” she was caught by surprise as Severus pulled his wand out from inside of his old-looking light brown woolen jacket and swished it elegantly, shrinking the table to half its size and nestling it against the wall between the couch and the standing lamp. “That was sweet of you Severus, thank you. ...You will put it back to normal after, won’t you?” it was her turn to shrink down under _his_ scathing look this time. “Right. Of course.”

Severus tucked his wand away and stood awkwardly in the middle of the now-open floor as Petunia went to her record player and flipped through a few vinyls in the cabinet underneath.

“Now from what you’ve told me they hate everything to do with Muggles so they probably won’t play Muggle music but I’m sure they have to have classical music of some kind-”

“Several prominent composers were actually wizards and Muggles just don’t know.”

She plucked up a Johan Strauss II recording and lifted the needle to set it down. “I feel like every historical figure was one at this point, honestly.” The gentle music picked up a moment later.

“Take your coat off, it will get in the way.” She instructed. Severus hesitated, clearly not liking the idea of being exposed in any way, but he did as she asked and set the coat on the couch, revealing his pale and scrawny arms in the faded black tee that he wore beneath. She gestured him to come back and step closer to her.

“There we are. Now, first you would bow at the waist, hands behind you, like this.” She demonstrated, and waited for him to mimic. “Perfect. And the lady will curtsy to you. And then when you stand, you put your right hand on her back, just under her arm really, and you take her left hand in yours and wait for her to put her right hand upon your shoulder.”

Severus did not move at that, a sizable gap still between them. Petunia closed the distance for him, and took his right hand and set it against her back. She then took his left in her hand and laced her fingers through his. They were in one another’s faces now, and she had to look up at him just like she had back on Christmas Eve. This time however, they were meeting under much better circumstances.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” she asked him softly. She knew she had to be patient with him, especially with regards to his shyness with women and his lack of experience – if there was one thing she knew about him with one hundred percent certainty now, it was that he abhorred being at a disadvantage in any way, and it burned him inside when he was not an expert at something.

He nodded, but still tried to hide his expression behind his hair as always; due to their intimate proximity he couldn’t. Petunia did not call attention to it, but kept her smile in place as she rested her free hand upon his shoulder.

“It’s a very simple dance. It can be complex but you needn’t make it that way. Since I imagine you’ll be doing more mingling with the menfolk than dancing with the ladies, you may get away with only dancing once. If anything, it gives you another little tool in your arsenal. And I bet it will be worth it to see the look of shock on some of their faces.”

“I’m telling you right now I’m not nearly coordinated enough for this. You’ll be fortunate if you have a single toe left by the time we finish this.” He warned, finally looking her in the eyes.

“That’s alright, I’ll just make you rub my feet if it really ends that painfully.” She said it so casually that he went bug-eyed at her, unsure if she was joking or if she really would force him to do it.

Petunia tossed her head back and laughed. “If you could see your face, Severus!” She could see the struggle to keep his face severe, but finally he cracked a wry smile at her and shook his head.

“If you’re quite done making jokes, Petunia? We have a lesson to attend to.”

Stifling her giggles, Petunia schooled her expression into an imitation of his normally serious face, positioned her feet, and stood up straight. “Of course. A very serious and important lesson.” She let the smile creep back on her face. “Alright. Let’s begin with the basics of the steps.”

* * *

_30 th June, 1978 – Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, South West England_

As beautiful as the windswept wildflowers and whispering grasses of the hills of Wiltshire were, Severus found it quite irritating that the Apparition point near the edges of the Malfoy family estate was so damned far away from the manor itself. It was bad enough that he still had to take a healthy trek through the hills and then further through the heavily forested area that almost entirely isolated the property from the Muggles who shared the countryside with them. But the length of the walk also gave him even more time to fret over his first assignment more or less as Dumbledore’s agent, and time to obsessively overthink his gestures and mannerisms.

In the nearly two weeks since his “lessons” with Petunia, he had spent hours pouring over her notes and secretly practicing his waltz steps in his bedroom. He had not told her that in his only letter since that visit, partly from embarrassment at how silly he felt dancing alone in his room, and partly because after the end of their visit he had been put on his heels by uncertainty. Simply, he did not know how to behave towards her at all – even in writing – after the way the trip had ended.

He had lost track of time somewhere after the third re-start of the record. Petunia had proven to be a much more patient instructor than he thought she would be, and somehow, he had only managed to step on her foot half a dozen times. She hadn’t said a word, so he only knew from the telltale feeling of something under his own larger foot and the slight pinched look on her face as her lips all but vanished, going flat in a thin, straight line. After a while, he had begun to think of it like tending to a potion; each step had to be calculated, his movements precise, just like stirring a cauldron. When he thought of it as such, he found his feet growing less clumsy, careful attention given to his positioning.

Petunia had been pleased by his rapid progress, and had said as much. She was so pleased in fact, that she had taught him how to add a little dip to the dance.

Severus had felt his face grow hot as she guided him on leaning her down to the side, and instructed him to slide his hand down from her back to her waist. His long fingers wrapped easily around the curve of her hip, and her fingers – still laced between his – squeezed tighter to his other hand.

The little rush of delighted laughter from her had been unanticipated.

“Oh! You’re a little stronger than I gave you credit for, Severus! You didn’t even have to lean down to hold my weight up. I suppose your height has something to do with it too. Alright, now gently pull me back up by the waist, you don’t want to tug your partner by the arm and hurt them.”

Dutifully, he complied – and found himself face to face with her, bodies flush together as the momentum pulled her up but also forward and stumbling into him. She gained her footing and re-positioned them a quick moment after. But for one moment they had been well within the other’s personal space. Petunia had not minded at all. Severus caught scent again of the heady floral perfume he was starting to associate strictly with her, and his mind came to a screeching halt.

He knew at that moment the very dangerous thing that was happening, but he ignored it, almost violently forcing it down in himself. He would not acknowledge it. He refused.

The rest of the evening, he was in a state of daze and vaguely aware of the panic in the back of his ribcage, threatening to send him out of the door and all the way back to Cokeworth.

When Petunia yawned, he finally realized that it had grown dark outside, as he could see through the sheer curtains on her small front window. She apologized for keeping him so long, and instructed him to stay a moment as she went to fetch something from her bedroom. He busied himself in that moment putting her coffee table back to normal, pausing a moment to cast a quick Reparo on a wobbly leg, and set it back where it belonged in the center of the room.

“Now I preface this with I do not want to hear any complaint.” She warned as she came back into the room with a small clutch in her hands.

Severus had arched a brow at her in question, folding his arms over to hopefully quiet what he felt was his unnaturally loudly pounding heart.

Petunia opened the clutch and counted out five twenty-pound notes, gathered them together, and folded them over with precision before snapping the clutch shut, and holding out the money for him to take. His eyes went wide in shock before he could school his features, and he immediately protested.

“I don’t need that.” He shook his head, shoulders hunching in defensively.

“What did I just say, Severus?” she held the money out even closer.

He leaned back away from her. “I do not need _charity_.” He insisted. He did not want to be pitied, especially not by Petunia Evans. It was worse than scorned, an insult to the pride he still held onto.

“I’m not offering you money out of charity, Severus.” The firmness of her tone softened him a little on its own before she continued. “It’s practicality. Look it’s no surprise you’re not well off. Even when your father was around you weren’t. I know it’s just you and your mum right now and she can’t even think about working till she’s healthy, and until you’ve got a job you haven’t got any means of support. And you need to get dress robes for the party, at the very least. Don’t you? You can convert some of it to Wizard money for your robes and whatever other magical things you need, and then just keep the rest in Muggle money to hold you and your mum over for a little longer.”

He knew she had him utterly beat, as much as he abhorred being out-maneuvered. And she was absolutely right in everything that she had stated. While he still was not entirely sure it wasn’t motivated out of pity in some way, he did sorely need to make a good impression at the Malfoys. He weighed his options only to find he had no others, and finally extended a hand.

"Fine. But **only** because it is crucial that I present myself as best as possible for the sake of our mission.” He wasn’t sure when he had begun to think of it as _their_ mission, when he was doing the bulk of the actual work for Dumbledore, but he didn’t feel the need to self-correct. “And as soon as I find employment or apprenticeship and I am able to, I am converting it back to Muggle money and I am repaying every single pence.”

Petunia smiled triumphantly, slapping the banknotes down into his open palm and pressing his hand closed over them. “You have a deal.”

She chewed on her lip a little before adding. “It would make me rest a little easier, not having to worry that you’ve got enough to eat with school being out now. We’re going to have to get used to looking out for one another, Sev. We haven’t got anyone else in this.”

She had never shortened his name like that before. His mother always had, as had Lily and sometimes Regulus, but never Petunia. The familiarity of it, coupled with the idea that she had actually been worried about him made the earlier panic come up again, and he fought internally to shove it back down just until he had left the flat and could bloody _think clearly_ again.

He couldn’t recall much more of his thoughts from that night after saying goodbye and Apparating back home, because the one overriding thought that kept returning to the front of his mind no matter what he attempted to distract himself with was the absurd idea that he was actually starting to develop **feelings** for Petunia Evans of all the people in the entire world. He attempted to placate himself with the thought that it was just a minor reaction to finally letting go of whatever romantic thoughts he had for Lily, a product of his loneliness and his lack of experience with females in general. None of those falsehoods proved helpful however, as he knew that he had begun to consider her his friend, and having her body pressed with his even for a moment had unforeseen physical circumstances. Never in his life had he been grateful for his father’s oversize cast off clothing until that moment.

Severus had been looking forward to this social, much as he detested the very idea of a party, just because it would take him out of his thoughts of Petunia. Her next letter, sent a few days after, had been full of more last-minute tips for the social, and he had sent Dusty back without a reply, instructing the owl to return in four days to take his response. His letter back had been closer to the original short and factual missives from their earlier days half a year before. Petunia had not replied yet.

As he finally reached the wrought iron gates that led onto the manor grounds, Severus pulled himself together. He ran his hands over the well-fitted black and dark forest green trimmed robes he had gone to Madame Malkin’s to be fitted for. He had often passed by the shop while in Diagon Alley, but never once gone in – his set of school robes had been passed down from his mother and spelled several times to hold till his graduation. He had half a mind to burn the damned things.

The gates were opened to welcome the visitors, and two house elves stood on either side of the gate wearing stark white napkins bearing the Malfoy family crest in silver. They bowed low as he neared.

“Greetings most esteemed guest. Hardee is welcoming you to Malfoy Manor. Hardee is needing to see your invitation, Sir.” The older looking of the two elves reached up for the invitation that Severus produced from inside his robes. Satisfied, the elf handed it back and gestured him in.

“Follow the path to the door, if you pleases Sir! You will be escorted to the West Garden!”

Severus nodded regally to the elf, using it as practice before making his way. At the end of the long stone pathway to the manor doors, another elf wearing a knotted pillowcase greeted him. This one looked a bit odd, with bandages wrapped around his fingertips, but Severus paid him little mind as he followed to one of the sprawling gardens.

A large white canopy had been erected to give shade to the guests milling around with flutes of champagne in hand. Classical music played from an unknown source throughout. Various tables had been arranged around the garden, laden with pastries and light sandwiches, tea sets already laid out and waiting for the formal service of the guests to begin. A fountain depicting a gryphon spouted water from its mouth as several pure white peacocks strutted about the rose bushes that the Lady of the house tended to personally. Severus had not seen anything quite like this outside of the over-dramatic period pieces on the telly that he would sometimes catch glimpses of growing up when his father had fallen asleep with drink in his chair after whatever sporting event happened to be on had ended.

He nodded to several guests of varying age as he declined the champagne another elf offered him, taking a flute of apple cider instead. To his pleasure, both Rosier and Wilkes looked flabbergasted by the sight of him, whether at his appearance or at his presence he couldn’t be sure. He knew he did not look at all like himself, in new and well-fitted clothing, his fashionable cloak pin worn as a broach at his chest, his lank hair pulled back into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He felt ridiculous strutting about like some spoiled dandy from a century before, yet he felt confident at the same time.

“Sev! Finally, for Merlin’s sake! I’ve been waiting since the gates opened! It’s been half a month and it already feels like it’s been a lifetime!”

Severus turned to find none other than Regulus Black coming from another part of the garden, wearing dark grey robes that brought out the stormy colors of his eyes.

“Can you not live without me for an entire month without complaint?” He greeted the younger man with a smirk. “It’s good to see you too Regulus. I hadn’t known you were invited.”

Regulus picked up champagne from the next passing elf and took a sip before replying. “Well of course I was invited silly, Cissy is my favorite cousin. Why couldn’t I have had sisters like her instead of what I ended up with…such a disappointment. Is that apple cider? Are you twelve? Live a little.”

Severus said nothing, giving Regulus the arched eyebrow that he found himself giving more and more these days, to the point where he wondered if it was his signature of sorts.

Laughing at his expression, Regulus hooked his arm through Severus’ and started to lead him away. “Is this your first time at one of these parties? It’s an annual thing now. I wasn’t sure about Lucius when he and Cissa first got married a few years back but you know, the man has impeccable taste. Let me show you around and introduce you to a few people.”

For all that Severus lacked when it came to socializing, Regulus took to it as easily as breathing. He had always known this to be the case from observing the younger boy at school, but here in high society he seemed to fully be in his element. It seemed that when he no longer had to share attention with another Black heir, he was far happier and more at ease.

Severus was increasingly thankful for his friend’s presence as Regulus seamlessly navigated him from circle to circle, making introductions and talking him up to everyone they encountered. Whether it be a comment on his potion making ability or his high marks and the honors with which he had graduated, Regulus had something to say that made Severus feel far more impressive than he actually was. And for the first time he could remember, the people that they spoke to had turned eyes on him with respect and interest, instead of vague disdain or disinterest.

With an uncomfortable lurch in his gut, Severus remembered the entire reason he had wanted to be among these pure-blooded elites in the first place. The respect that came with wealth or blood purity was dizzying, and he knew now even as he basked in it how dangerous this sort of praise would have quickly become had he allowed it – had Petunia not turned his world upside down.

Frowning, he wrenched his thoughts away from Petunia. It would not do to be distracted by thoughts of her – a Muggle woman – here of all places, with these of all people.

“Have you spirited away one of our guests all to yourself, Regulus?” came a familiar drawl behind them. Severus turned his head over his shoulder to see Lucius Malfoy himself, looking resplendent in black dress robes and cravat, a fanged serpent cravat pin at his throat. From the long blonde hair hanging loose over his shoulders to the snake headed walking stick that Lucius carried, Severus thought he looked rather like the highly inaccurate Muggle idea of a vampire.

“Not entirely to myself!” Regulus pouted playfully. “Sev’s my friend from school so I was taking him around to make sure he met the right people.”

Lucius nodded approvingly. “Very forward-thinking of you.” He turned to Severus next. “I’m pleased you could make it out, Severus. Have you been enjoying yourself thus far?”

This was one of the moments that he had been preparing for. Bracing himself mentally, he bowed his head respectfully. “Immensely. I thank you sincerely for inviting me to your home. You have a lovely estate. I particularly enjoyed the white roses; they lend elegance to the dragon topiary.”

Lucius waved off his thanks with what Severus knew was false humility. “Of course. It’s high time you’ve been brought into proper company, now that you’re away from that poorly run school. And Narcissa will be very pleased that you so admired her roses. They’re her pride and joy.”

As if summoned by the sound of her name, Narcissa appeared at her husband’s side a moment later in a fitted green gown, her hair in an elegantly braided and pinned coif atop her head.

“Hello Severus. Has our Reggie here been showing you around the garden? Behaving himself as well, I should hope.” She reached a hand out and pinched Regulus’ cheek affectionately, to which he winced but smiled.

“Cissa darling, Severus just mentioned to me how much he admired your roses. He said they add elegance to the dragons.” Lucius shared a look with his wife, almost as if to say “I told you”.

At the praise to her flowers, Narcissa put a hand to her chest in the same mock-humility that her husband had displayed before. “Thank you, Severus. They’re not of the usual caliber this blooming season I fear, but still passable for what I envisioned.”

Even expecting something along these lines from Petunia’s notes – from **the** notes, he corrected himself, still trying to not think of her while here – Severus still found the exchange strange. The Malfoys clearly thrived on praise and on feeling like they were held above others, almost revered. In this setting, on their own expansive grounds, playing the role of generous and genteel hosts, they almost managed to appear humble and honest, lacking any malice towards a living soul.

Severus knew better than that from the one year that his schooling had overlapped with Lucius’ and the two years it had overlapped with Narcissa’s. The pair of them were as vain as they came, as obsessed with power and wealth as any, and full of more venom towards Muggles and Muggle-borns than a nest full of adders could produce.

A bell chimed through the garden, apparently signaling the start of the tea service. Guests began to drift towards the tables in little cliques and pairs to find their seats.

“Come on Sev, you can sit at the family table with us. He can, can’t he Cissy?” Regulus asked in a way that implied it was more of a demand than a request. He must have held quite a bit of favor with his elder cousin, because the woman merely smiled at him as if indulging a darling child and said “of course he may”, and Lucius nodded in consent, likely used to agreeing with his wife’s decisions.

So far, everything had gone better than it could have if he planned it. Feeling far more grounded than he thought possible considering his initial nerves, Severus followed Regulus and the Malfoys to their personal table nearest to the fountain.

Regulus took a seat and patted the chair beside him. Severus pulled out Narcissa’s seat for her, earning him a bright smile from her and another nod of approval from Lucius.

 _“Probably shocked that I have such proper manners.”_ He thought to himself as the Malfoys seated themselves. Across the table from him as he took his own chair was a woman who would be beautiful if not for the haughty and sour expression that looked etched onto her face. Her dark hair ran wild and wavy over her shoulders, and she looked at Severus with disinterest. That at least he was accustomed to, and it did not bother him in the least.

“Severus, I don’t believe you’ve ever met my sister in law, Bellatrix, or her husband Rodolphus Lestrange?” Lucius said by way of introduction, gesturing to the dark-haired woman and the burly, dark haired and bearded man beside her. Now that he was actively looking, Severus could see the familial resemblance between Bellatrix and Narcissa, the full and perpetually pouty lips and finely sculpted cheekbones that were hallmarks of the Black family bloodline.

“I have not, no. It is of course an honor to meet more members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families who actually uphold their family blood standards.” Severus was proud he had managed to say this smoothly, having re-worded a similar sentiment in his mind several times for such a moment.

Bellatrix still seemed undecided about him, but Rodolphus paid him more attention and puffed up with pride at the flattery.

“Always nice to meet another who understands the sanctity of our status. Severus you said it was? What family do you come from, then?”

Severus’ lip curled with unfeigned distaste, and he was able to at least answer this part with honesty. “I was unfortunately cursed to be born of a Muggle father with the surname of Snape. My mother hailed from the pure-blooded Prince family. She was a blood traitor and cast out for it. I assure you that I have no small amount of shame over this. An absolute disgrace.”

Now Bellatrix looked at him, her lip curled in disbelieving disgust. “You knowingly let a filthy half-breed onto your property, Lucius? What sort of company are you keeping?”

Regulus crossed his arms and glared at his other cousin. “It’s HIS house, Bella, not yours. And it’s not like he’s a dirty mudblood or anything. Severus is a friend. He’s definitely one of us, trust me. He may actually hate Muggles more than I do, and that’s saying something. Me and Rabastan were just hanging out with Sev last term, watching some mudblood slags getting hexed by-”

“Enough, Regulus.” Lucius did not look at Regulus, but at Bellatrix as he regarded her coldly. “As he stated though, Bella – this is _my_ estate and Severus is _my_ guest. I don’t believe I need approval to invite whomever I please to my ancestral home. Take care to not insult my choices while you are a guest on my property.”

Narcissa cleared her throat as the elves approached and began to pour the tea for the human guests. Severus was fairly certain that if Bellatrix could cast the killing curse with her eyes, she would have already murdered her brother in law. But she was silent as she turned her narrowed gaze away.

Severus accepted the cup that an elf held up to him, added his cream and sugar, and took a taste. He was instantly annoyed with himself as he thought, entirely unbidden, that it was not as good as when Petunia prepared it for him. He _had_ to stop thinking about her, damn it all!

Lucius handed off his walking stick to the same elf from earlier with the bandaged fingers, dismissing him with a flick of the wrist. “Besides, dear sister in law-” his tone indicated that he thought of her as anything **but** dear at the moment, “I have spoken very highly of Severus to our Lord. He has asked that I bring Severus to our next meeting so that I may introduce him. Severus has several talents that would be an asset to a certain inner part of our little organization.”

Severus had to fight hard to not choke and spit his tea everywhere. An audience with the Dark Lord was something that he thought he would have to build up to and work for, something that would take months of flattery and proving the depths of his hatred. He had not thought that Lucius would simply take him along to meet the man just like that.

“Lucius, I don’t know what to say.” And truly, he didn’t. He had not been prepared for that.

The blonde simply tossed his head back proudly. “No thanks are needed, Severus. You have more than proven yourself to me over the years of our acquaintance. Now you will just need to convince him. I’d like you to stay after the party and join us for dinner this evening so I may discuss this with you further. Unless you have other pressing matters to attend?”

Lucius knew that Severus had no other matters to attend. And Severus knew that the real question his host was asking was whether or not he was truly committed to this cause, and to devoting himself body and soul to the Dark Lord. A chill ran up the length of his spine, but he squared his shoulders and made sure his voice would be steady when he finally replied.

“Thank you, Lucius. I would be delighted to join you for dinner.”

* * *

Just past sunset, Severus found himself again seated beside Regulus, with the Malfoys and the Lestranges in one of the smaller parlors. The rest of the garden party had passed without incident. He had indeed found reason to use his newly gained waltz steps as the tables had been cleared away, and a dance floor put out in their place. Narcissa was his first partner, followed by a few other older pureblood women, and finally with Regulus at one point, though the younger boy warned him – somewhat too seriously, Severus thought – not to take it the wrong way, as Severus was “not his type”.

It was in this parlor after dinner had been cleared away, that Severus laid eyes on the Dark Mark in person for the very first time. Lucius had rolled back his left sleeve and revealed the magically tattooed symbol to Severus, who looked on it as stone faced as possible. Regulus on the other hand looked at it with near reverence, sighing longingly.

“The Dark Mark is reserved for the most faithful and the most dedicated only.” Lucius stated with clear pride as he clenched his hand in a fist and watched the Mark stand out even more.

“And yet you would bring a half-blooded mongrel to our Lord, defile his eyes with the presence of a sub-par creature and tout him as an equal!” Bellatrix snarled, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

“The Dark Lord has half bloods in his service already, Bella. And giants. And werewolves, even. Look at Greyback. He’s been serving him longer than we have.” Rodolphus was clearly used to his wife’s rages as he did not seem troubled, merely mildly inconvenienced by her outburst.

Wild-eyed, Bellatrix whirled on her husband next. “The werewolf is a tool to be used! A creature! He may think he has favor but you notice that the wolf is not Marked, don’t you? He is a pet to our master and nothing more! Not a single Death Eater in the inner circle is a drop less than pure!”

Tired of being insulted and bolstered by the fact that Rodolphus and Lucius both did not seem to agree with her, Severus finally addressed Bellatrix directly.

“I believe you have forgotten that you are speaking for yourself and not for the Dark Lord, Madame Lestrange. Should you not allow him to make his own decision on who he sees fit to serve him? Or do you presume to know better than the most powerful wizard since Slytherin himself?”

The room went silent. By the fireplace, Narcissa set down her embroidery and looked from her sister to Severus with a stunned expression. The other men in the room did the same. It was apparent from their reaction that people did not often stand their ground with the very intimidating woman.

Bellatrix was at a loss for a moment, but as soon as she recovered her wits, she drew herself up to her full height, nearly as tall as Severus was, and got directly into his face.

“You do not want to make an enemy of me, you mongrel. The blood of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black runs through my veins.”

“Well it runs in mine too, Bella. And you shouldn’t insult my friend.” Regulus stepped up beside Severus, his hand twitching as though aching to reach for his wand.

It was Narcissa who broke the tense silence that had taken the room.

“Bella. Reggie. Please, let us not fight amongst ourselves. There are so few of us from House Black left. I can’t bear to lose any more family. Especially when we all support the Dark Lord’s noble cause, each in our own ways. No one is questioning your devotion to him, Bella. And little Reggie is so eager to offer himself to our Lord as well. Please, be at peace with one another.”

Regulus and Bellatrix glared at one another, but silently came to an agreement and nodded, stepping back from each other. Severus had no idea of how it had worked, but he was beyond relieved that it had. He kept his expression cool and disinterested, but inside he was deeply shaken.

He knew the inner circle of marked Death Eaters were reportedly the most passionate about carrying out the Dark Lord’s vision of pure-blood supremacy and dominance over those of lesser blood and Muggles. He knew that they must be the most devoted and most loyal. But he had not expected someone as fanatical and seemingly on edge as Bellatrix Lestrange. He would have to be very, very cautious to not run afoul of her without allies on his side. Were it not for Regulus and Lucius on his side, and Rodolphus’ neutrality, he would not have had the courage to stand to her the way that he had.

Lucius rolled down his sleeve and re-buttoned it. “I believe that’s rather enough excitement for one day. Severus, I will owl you with the details for our meeting with our Lord. Regulus, would you please see our friend out to the gate? I need to speak with your cousin in private.”

Regulus did not seem to want any part of that conversation, and hastily took Severus’ arm again to lead him through the seemingly endless halls of the manor. They did not utter a single word until they were outside and heading down the stone pathway Severus had entered by earlier that morning.

“Don’t worry too much about Bella. She’s always been a cunt. Thinks she’s so high and mighty because the Dark Lord fucks her on the rare occasion that he feels like it.” Regulus fumed.

Severus tried to formulate a sentence as he processed that information and struggled immensely to do so. “He – what? – Regulus how do you even know that?”

The younger boy rolled his eyes. “She never shuts up about it. Like laying on her back for the Dark Lord does any good to the cause. I bet you she just wants him to knock her up so she can go ‘round lording it over us all that she’s carrying the Dark Lord’s child. If she’s this pleasant now, can you imagine her hormonal and craving?”

“I would rather not. We just ate dinner, after all.” Severus put a hand on his stomach for emphasis as Regulus finally stopped his grumbling and chuckled.

“Good point. Alright well…don’t be a stranger, alright?” Regulus seemed saddened to let him go.

He remembered what Regulus had told him on the last day of school, about not having many real friends, and felt bad for him. Severus knew all too well what that was like. He made a decision that would likely displease Petunia that he hadn’t consulted her first, but he opted to ask forgiveness later, rather than put off his idea to ask for permission later.

“I’ve an idea: why don’t you write to me? I’ve got an owl now, so I can write back.”

Regulus looked so moved Severus almost thought he would cry. “Really? You would exchange letters with me? I’d like that. Only letters I get are ones at school from mum, reminding me I’m the last hope for the Black family lineage. Poor mum, I don’t think she’s accepted yet that I don’t like girls…”

“She’ll come around eventually. She dotes on you.” From what Severus knew of Walburga Black he knew he was giving Regulus false promises. But with one son already disowned, the Black family matriarch really was in no position to disown a second over his sexual leanings.

With the promise that he would send a letter soon, Regulus waved to him before turning back to the manor. Severus waited until the door closed behind him before turning back to the path, and making his own long trek back to the Apparition point.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very, very much for reading. I am very grateful for you all and grateful for all the feedback you've given so far.
> 
> I'm definitely trying to keep the updates going as quickly as I can for as long as I can! Can't promise that it will stay weekly, but I will certainly do my best. 
> 
> I've not fully decided yet on exactly when, but we will be shifting to Regulus' POV very soon (at last!), and there will be another time skip coming. I just don't know how big of one, but I'm working on it!
> 
> Till next time (in which wedding planning will be happening, and Severus will be made a member of the Death Eater team),  
> -TR


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include: Mentions of past child abuse, and a rather graphic branding scene. Please be cautious!

* * *

_26 th August, 1978 – Diagon Alley / Charing Cross Road, Central London, England_

Even with her vastly expanded knowledge of the Wizarding world – if only Lily knew how much she had learned, she mused to herself - Petunia could not help being a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of shops and strange things happening around her. She had heard Severus and Lily talk about this place when they were younger, but had not accompanied them when the school official had escorted her parents with Lily to do her school shopping before her first year. Now, Petunia found that she wanted to see everything all at once, but she was so frightened of losing her way that she had to hold onto Lily’s arm like she was a child at the market with her mother.

The younger Evans sister had arrived early that morning full of excitement, and had scarcely stopped talking from the moment they left Petunia’s flat, all the way through the entirety of their ride on the underground to Charing Cross Station. Petunia found her sister’s wedding planning delight infectious, and was in a merry mood herself by the time they finally arrived on foot to Charing Cross Road. Upon reaching the street, she was surprised to see a dingy looking little pub nestled between a record store and an old book shop.

“Why haven’t I ever noticed this little place before, Lils? And why can no one else on the street seem to see it?” Petunia had asked, puzzled as other Muggles who were enjoying their Saturday mornings on the street continued to pass it by without even a glance.

Lily stifled a little laugh with the back of her hand, masking it as a cough. “You’re not mad, Tuney don’t worry. It’s got protections on it so average Muggles can’t just stumble on into it. But since you already know about magic and such existing, the Statute of Secrecy doesn’t apply to you any longer.”

“So, I’ve graduated to above-average Muggle at long last then?” Petunia nudged Lily a little, eliciting another giggle. “I hope the inside is more impressive than the outside.”

“Hmmm. Well it’s got a certain…err…charm to it. It’s better than the Hog’s Head at least…”

Petunia decided she didn’t want to know about anything called a Hog’s Head and simply let Lily pull her along through the door of the establishment. Once inside, she continued to be unimpressed by the cramped and dim little pub, which was crowded currently as a group of rowdy wizards listened to something on the radio behind the bar. The round and long tables through the room were all crowded, and despite the relative warmth of the August morning they had come in from, there was a fire crackling in the hearth and within it sat a great round black cauldron bubbling something up.

“Supposing it’s not a football match they’re listening to?” Petunia stated more than asked as Lily nodded to the barkeep and kept pulling her out through the open back door, which led into a dingy little courtyard.

“Probably one of the North American league’s Quidditch matches. The English League doesn’t usually play till early evening.” Lily supplied, while pulling her wand from within her coat. Petunia watched in fascination as Lily tapped a brick in the wall, seemingly at random, and the bricks began to rearrange themselves, opening up into an archway.

Lily stepped through the archway. Petunia stood, wide eyed and open mouthed, and stared into a long alleyway full of crooked buildings, colorful signs, and fluttering owls overhead. If she were honest, she had not stopped being wide eyed and open mouthed since Lily turned around and looked at her with concern. That was when Petunia had looped her arm with her sister’s, and had not let go since.

Since Lily’s friends and James and his friends would not arrive till the early afternoon, the Evans girls had the whole morning to walk and shop and talk, just the two of them, as Lily guided her around through the shops that were already open. They had spent an entire hour in Flourish and Blotts alone, where Petunia had shyly asked Lily if she could spot her some sickles – since she had no Wizard money of her own - for a beginner’s book on the fundamentals of potion making called You Too Can Brew. Lily was stunned by the request, till Petunia made up something about finding it interesting because it was like cooking, mixing things together by a recipe. Smiling fondly, Lily had purchased the book and refused to take a single pence from her in return. Petunia felt a little pang of guilt for lying to Lily, but the real reason she had wanted it was to learn more about the art that Severus was so passionate for.

It was only now, a few weeks after the Malfoy family party, that Severus seemed to finally have gone back to somewhat normal. There had been a few exchanges between them that seemed awkward, tense even. Petunia had worried for a stretch of time that somehow, she had pushed him too hard, and set their relationship back a few steps. Still, she pressed on with her letters the same as always, as if nothing at all had changed, and continued to draw him out again as she had before. As his next few letters arrived one after the other – closer to what they were like before, though still slightly detached in tone – she decided that it was not her, but the truly awful things he had been forced to do that were causing his seeming coolness towards her.

Each letter with any sort of account of his “initiation duties” was carefully read, the major points made note of in one of her little day books, and forwarded on dutifully to Dumbledore. One letter in particular described his growing fear for a friend of his, a younger classmate from school that was purist by his upbringing with “a good heart beneath it” Severus had written. The boy in question was only sixteen but passionate for the new world he envisioned under Voldemort, and the thought of one so young with such hatred broke Petunia’s heart. Between watching his young friend step further down a path of depravity, and engaging in said acts of depravity himself, Petunia could only imagine the weight of it on Severus’ soul. She worried for him endlessly, and told herself it was her mothering instinct that made it so, but she knew was certainly old enough by now to know better.

Much as she preferred to turn from the truth even in the face of it, Petunia had started to privately admit that she may have begun to develop feelings for him that were not maternal at all.

“Hullo? Are you still in there, Tuney?”

Petunia shook herself from her thoughts of Severus and looked to her sister, who stood in front of a window display advertising sweets with names like “Fizzing Whizzbees” and “Acid Pops”.

“Sorry Lily. What was the question?”

“Would you mind if we ducked into Sugarplum’s? I wanted to pick up some Chocolate Frogs for Remus, he’s very fond of them and he ah…he wasn’t feeling too well when I saw him last week.”

Petunia nodded and gestured to the door. The moment they stepped inside, she was hit with the idea of how much Dudley would have loved this place, with sweets of all kinds stuffed onto the shelves, lining every wall, displays overflowing with treats every direction she turned.

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing, trying to wipe clean the memory of Dudley with a fist full of chocolate coins at the market when he was three, or of him with a lolli in his fist as he rode his tricycle at age six. She had indulged his sweet tooth far too much, she knew. But he had been so happy when he got what he wanted, and she had wanted to give him everything as a result.

“Petunia what’s wrong?” Lily’s worried voice pulled her back into focus again.

Swiftly Petunia set a hand to her abdomen. “Cramp. Awful cramp. Getting to be that time of the month, unfortunately.”

Lily gave her sister a sympathetic pat on the arm. “You poor thing! Let me pick up another Frog for you then, give me a moment and then we’ll go have a sit down!”

Petunia felt terrible about having lied to her for the second time that day. But it was necessary, she told herself. In regards to some of it, keeping the truth from Lily was the only way to protect her. She still felt awful even as Lily sat her outside on a bench in front of a clothing shop and began to go on in more detail about the things she still had yet to do for the wedding that was just a few weeks away.

“-and then of course there’s the flowers, and at least the dress fittings will be done after today, and the suits for the boys of course, bless Madame Malkin, really, she’s an angel for doing all this on the rush for us and at such a good price too. And we’ve got to set a date for the rehearsal still…” Lily worked her lower lip between her teeth in her nervousness, and another thought struck Petunia.

“I know I’m not really one to talk, since I was due to marry a man after knowing him just a year and you’ve known yours for seven, but why are you and James rushing to marry so soon after school? Don’t you want to get situated first, find a job and the like?”

Releasing her lip from between her teeth, Lily suddenly grew quiet and appeared almost nervous to Petunia’s eyes. She reached over and took Petunia’s hands in her own, looking around the street in both directions. The closest people to them seemed more interested in a stall selling self-watering and singing house plants, and so Lily leaned in closer before she began to speak.

“There’s a few reasons, really. Firstly, James’ parents…they’re quite old, even by wizard standards. Truth be told we’re both concerned that they really have a matter of months left, and not many at that. We’re terrified that a sniffle could take them from us at this point. James thinks they’ve held on as long as they have to see their only child graduate, and he wants them to see him married and settled down before they pass. I love him, he loves me, and Euphemia and Fleamont are lovely and I adore them and would like to give them this.”

Lily stopped and said no more. Petunia waved her hand for Lily to carry on and felt Lily’s hands clench tighter around her own. The redhead nodded once, exhaling very slowly before she spoke again, even softer than before.

“…James and I are both…we’ve joined a group that our Headmaster formed. A group that’s fighting against You-Know-Who. We’re at war, Tuney. Honest to goodness war. And with the way that this war has been going the last few years while we were safe in school, I can’t promise…I don’t know what…what tomorrow may bring.”

A surge of bile in the back of her throat made Petunia fear for a moment she would be sick all over her own lap. A scream of panic rose in her chest but she batted it down, trying to stay calm at least outwardly. Lily looked scared, and it was her duty to be calm for her. But the very instant she returned home that night, she was going to write a scathing letter to Dumbledore to ask what in the nine hells he was _thinking¸_ letting Lily and James join his little Order of the Phoenix when one of the reasons Severus was putting his neck on the block every other day was to protect them in the first place!

Lily swallowed hard, her voice thick, eyes watery with unshed tears as she carried on. “He found us, one night and it was terrifying. He doesn’t even look human anymore. Dumbledore says he’s done so much experimentation on himself he’s barely even human inside now either. James and I, we were going back from a meeting of this group one night, not too long after graduation, and the Dark Lord found us and instead of fighting us he asked us to _join_ him. He wants James because he’s a pureblood and wealthy, obviously. He would have a lot of influence socially, normalize his little “perfect society”. But this war is past politics now. People are dying. Why he would ever want _me_ on his side is beyond me, other than my high marks in school. People like me, he thinks we stole our magic and wants us to be labeled and watched and subjugated. We told him no of course.”

“Lily that’s awful…I am so glad you’re both alright.” And truly, she was. The many ways that the confrontation could have gone wrong were swirling in Petunia’s mind. “How did you get away? Did you tell your headmaster about this? Are you even safe right now?”

Lily nodded, eyes still shining with tears that had still not fallen. “We thought he would try to kill us right then and there but he didn’t. He just…sort of vanished into this cloud. Like he had Apparated away but…not. We popped back to James’ house and sent word to Dumbledore and we just…decided then and there to not wait much longer. Life is too short to wait on it and we’re both afraid if we don’t do this now, we may never get another chance. We want to be happy, and together, as long as we can.”

Holding her sister’s hands just a little bit tighter, Petunia pressed her forehead against Lily’s and closed her eyes, almost as if in prayer. “You’re going to live a long, happy life together. Just you wait.”

Petunia swore she would ensure it happened this time, even if she had to face down the evil bastard herself with a brick in her handbag. Lily seemed to brighten up again at Petunia’s confident assurance, and they sat like that for a long moment after till the toll of several clocks from what seemed like every shop in the Alley told them it was noon.

“Time to go meet the others. Come on, they’ll be at the Cauldron by now, I hope. And Tuney, my friends that are here today all know about the incident but please don’t say anything to mum and dad alright? I don’t want them to worry. I’ve told them next to nothing about the war and the group I joined and all that, but I trust you and I wanted you to know the truth. In case I…just in case.”

As greatly as it pained her to think about Lily potentially meeting the same fate yet again, it filled Petunia with warmth to hear her little sister say that she trusted her.

“I won’t breathe a word of it. I promise you.”

Lily looked like a weight had come off of her shoulders, and Petunia handed her a tissue from her purse to dab at her eyes and attempt to fix her face a bit. Finally, they gathered up their shopping bags, and arm in arm again they walked the length of Diagon Alley back to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

As it turned out, all of Lily’s group of friends had arrived, with the exception of Sirius and James. Looking unsurprised, Lily took the time to introduce Petunia to her fellow bridesmaids; a fiery redheaded Scotswoman named Marlene McKinnon who was to be the Maid of Honor – Petunia was not offended at all at not being named, especially since Marlene and Lily had become dear friends at school - and a sweet and cheerful round-faced dirty blonde named Alice Longbottom, whose husband was not in the wedding party due to his heavy caseload at work but would be present for the big day. They greeted Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, who also did not seem surprised by the tardiness of their two absent friends. They chatted pleasantly for ten or so minutes till James and Sirius burst through the door, laughing at something and near breathless, almost stumbling over one another.

The laughter died as they took in Lily’s folded over arms and posture. Both boys straightened up instantly as they approached the group.

“Lily, my love. Ladies. Marauders.” James smiled nervously as he greeted everyone, Sirius a half step behind him. “Sorry we’re late, the bike gave us a little bit of trouble.”

“Just a spot. All better now! Everything’s tops! We even stopped to give directions to a group of nuns. Helped a few old ladies cross the street for good measure.” Sirius chimed in from behind him.

Petunia didn’t believe for a second that this was true, but Lily didn’t push them on it. Marlene and Alice giggled behind her. The two boys were dreadful at playing innocent, but even Petunia started to laugh when James fluttered his eyes and looked down at Lily seeking pity.

“Oh, fine! I won’t ask, now stop looking at me like that, you look like a dying Mandrake.” Lily chastised her fiancée, slapping his chest playfully.

James dropped the faux innocence and grinned down triumphantly, swooping down to kiss her.

It wasn’t jealousy that fluttered Petunia’s heart at the sight, but happiness for her sister and a dull sort of longing for her own love life again. While Vernon had never truly been romantic, and she had initiated most of their intimate moments herself, there was something lovely about how James and Lily clearly loved one another despite their differences. Petunia wondered at what it would be like to matter this much to someone else, and be looked at the way James looked at Lily.

“Alright, lads and ladies.” Sirius cleared his throat and spread his arms wide like a circus ringmaster might to introduce his next daring act. “Now that we’re all here! Jim and I here had the brilliant idea that we should all pair off for the afternoon for an hour or two before the fittings for the wedding attire! Figured we would each go ‘round with the person we’ll be matched with at the wedding, to get to know one another a little better and be less awkward at the main event!”

Petunia looked to Lily, and Lily shrugged her shoulders. Whatever the two idiots had planned, they had not discussed it with the bride-to-be.

“Alright so let’s see…obviously that puts me with my future wife.” James wrapped an arm around Lily’s shoulder and squeezed her. “And that puts Pete here with Alice, since they’re the same height. And Remus my boy, you’re with Tunes. Behave yourself now! She’s got a mean wine-glass tossing hand!” This time Petunia rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law to be, as did Remus at the same moment, and both of them had crossed their arms over very similarly to one another.

Sirius hmm-ed and tapped his chin. “Well Jim that leaves me as your Best Man and…a-ha! Miss Marlene as the Maid of Honor. Suppose that means we’re paired off, doesn’t it, Marly?” he attempted to wrap his arm around Marlene similar to how James had done to pull Lily in, only to be elbowed in the ribs and end up wincing and hissing under his breath instead.

“Ya fuckin’ wish, Black.” She huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Ya want yer hands on me, ya earn it first. I’m not about to fall fer the pretty face that easy. Didn’t work fer the past seven years, ain’t goin’ to work now.”

Rather than look put off, Sirius had the audacity to look smitten.

“Alright good that’s settled, we’ll meet at Madame Malkin’s ‘round two! Everyone - break!” James winked at the others, and pulled Lily out the back towards the Alley. Alice and Peter were engaged in polite conversation – Peter a little more eagerly that she was it seemed – and made their way up to the bar, Marlene walked off towards the Alley as well, Sirius right on her heels. Leaving Remus and Petunia shaking their heads.

“You seem like the sensible one.” Petunia deadpanned, looking over to him.

Remus gave a toothy little apologetic grin, something mischievous in his eyes. “People tend to think that. Sorry to disappoint, but looks can be terribly deceiving sometimes.”

Petunia decided she liked this one already. She knew of him a little more now from both Lily and from Severus. Lily had told her that Remus was a fellow Prefect, the calmer of the Marauders and the best student of the four of them, but still as playful as the rest. Severus had told her to guard herself if she were ever alone around him, because he was not as gentle and mild-mannered as he appeared. When she told him in her last letter she would be out with Lily and all her friends for the wedding planning this weekend, Severus had written back the very same day with a stern reminder of what he had said before, and told her to carry something sterling silver on her person just in case. She thought that the advice was very odd, but she was touched he cared enough to be concerned over her.

“Shall we go back out to the Alley then? There’s more I haven’t seen. You can educate me on the true Remus Lupin along the way.”

His toothy grin was replaced by a polite smile that Petunia believed to be genuine. “Sure. Have you been to Fortescue’s yet?”

“Not yet. Would you mind terribly taking me to the bank first though? I’d like to exchange my Muggle money for some Wizard money of my own.” She asked him sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” He offered his arm politely, and escorted her towards Gringotts.

* * *

Remus had turned out to be a very nice companion over the course of their two hours together. He was polite, and had pointed out several things of interest to her as they made their way. He had objected when Petunia insisted on buying his ice cream, but she cajoled him into accepting it as repayment for guiding her seamlessly through what could have been a very overwhelming experience meeting Goblins at the bank. She had learned that he was half-blood, and that his mother had passed in his sixth year of school, and she had also learned that her first impression at his graduation was spot on; he was indeed stealthily sarcastic, masking it with the easygoing demeanor he had about him.

And, as she had unfortunately learned through a chance passing encounter, he was just as complicit in the horrendous things that James and Sirius had done to Severus in school.

From halfway down the street, she had seen Severus’ familiar swooping figure striding into a darkened offshoot, under a crooked sign that read “Knockturn Alley”. She stopped in place, not expecting to see him here. Her life with her sister and her life as Severus’ spying partner were in two entirely separate boxes in her head, and she almost forgot sometimes that they were inseparably joined. Remus must have followed her gaze when she stopped moving, and his eyes narrowed.

He looked at the spot where Severus had been just moments before and sneered. “Right, I forgot you would have known old Snivellus too. I’m so sorry. Not at all surprising to see that greasy bat swooping around Knockturn. Nothing good comes from that area – or goes into it.”

While furiously fighting back her instinctual indignation and the fierce desire to defend Severus that was burning in her currently, Petunia still frowned and looked sharply at Remus.

“I know he and Lily had a falling out a few years ago but he wasn’t really that bad of a person. Very rough around the edges, and very snappish, yes. But he’s not a bad person.”

Remus scoffed, shaking his head. “Maybe not when you were children, but you didn’t go to school with him for the better part of the last decade. He’s absolutely not a good person by any means.”

She arched a brow at him, drawing in a deep breath and pulling her shoulders back, mouth looking quite pinched she was sure. Remus visibly leaned back from her a bit.

“I’d like to think I know him better than you do.” She bit out. Then she remembered that she wasn’t _supposed_ to know him better than Remus, and added “I did grow up with the boy after all.”

He looked set to object, but Petunia cut him off. “And from what I’m told, you and your friends didn’t exactly make things any easier on him.” She carefully left out _who_ told her what she knew, but knew that he would attribute it to Lily rather than Severus.

“…alright that’s…that’s fair. Yes, we didn’t exactly…we were...” Remus struggled mightily under Petunia’s ever-deepening frown. “Alright, we were awful to him. James and Sirius always had to egg him on and harass him even when he hadn’t done anything. Just for existing. Peter would go along with it sometimes just to be in on something and I…I didn’t actively participate in it as much but I admit I didn’t do much to stop them after first year, either. But look, Petunia, Snape was by no means innocent either. He dished out as much as he got, and then some. He could match Sirius hex for hex, and he would fight dirty. Maybe he was different as a child but he was an utter arse at school.”

“Well of course he was! He had to deal with his alcoholic bum of a father terrorizing him and his mother at home, and then he had to deal with the lot of you terrorizing him at every turn at the school he had wanted to escape to! It’s no wonder he hated you all!”

Silence overtook them both suddenly, and Petunia realized she had revealed something she truly shouldn’t have. Remus on the other hand looked like he had been struck in the gut with something he had never known, and seemed unsure of how to process it.

“I had no idea.” He said quietly. “Lily never said. And I guarantee you no one else knew that. We knew he wasn’t well off but then, neither am I…” he trailed off into silence again.

“Would it have made a difference, if you had known? Would you have left him alone out of pity? Or would you just have kept harassing him out of spite?”

Remus didn’t answer.

Petunia didn’t feel right, airing Severus’ private business this way. But she didn’t feel right letting Remus badmouth him either, knowing what he was doing day in and day out. Still, she did not think that Remus was a bad person either, and she knew Severus was not entirely innocent himself. It was complicated and she was well aware that she only knew bits and pieces from both sides. Sighing, she unfolded her arms and softened towards him.

“I apologize, Remus. I just…don’t care much for bullying. I didn’t care about that sort of thing when I was younger but I care an awful lot now. And I just know that life has not been particularly kind to him. He still feels awful to this day for calling Lily a mudblood, you know?”

At hearing the slur, Remus startled. “How do you know that word? Better yet, how do you know that Snape still feels bad about using it? Lily hasn’t spoken to him since the end of fifth year. Unless…”

Remus was startled again as Petunia swore vehemently under her breath - but still quite loudly - at her second mistake. She eyed him warily before ultimately making up her mind and leaning in. “Unless I’ve spoken to him recently?” Remus nodded, confirming what he had been thinking. She nearly swore again, but was able to catch herself. She thought of Severus again, and tried to mimic his familiar confident tone. “I might have. But it is vital that this stays between just you and I. I’m only saying this much because I’ve just got a feeling in my heart that you’re trustworthy. Can I trust you to keep that in confidence? Or do I need to pay someone to cast some sort of memory erasing spell on you?”

Petunia had no idea if that was even a real thing, but apparently it was since Remus blanched and seemed to take her threat very seriously.

“No need for that. You have my word. I’d like to think that Lily’s own sister wouldn’t be wrapped up in –” he cut himself off at her harsh look and re-worked his line of thought. “I won’t say anything. But…just be careful, would you? You seem nice. Very caring. And Sniv – Snape – if the rumors are to be believed, he’s involved pretty deeply with some very, very bad people.”

_“That is quite the understatement”_ Petunia thought wryly. “I appreciate the concern, Remus. I truly do. But I know he wouldn’t do me any harm. Still, I’ll be cautious. Alright? And if anything were to happen, I would reach right out to that little resistance group you and my sister and your friends are in.”

Remus inclined his head in assent, and finally seemed to ease back to his default detached politeness. “Fair enough. You know I have to say, Petunia – you are full of surprises.”

She simply smiled at him, and shrugged her shoulders gracefully.

“You have no bloody idea.”

* * *

_30 th August, 1978 – Unknown Location_

Despite actively working towards this since January – working towards it since his fifth year if he was truly honest – Severus was not prepared.

On his knees, head bowed to the soiled and stained gray carpet beneath him, he fought to suppress the shiver that wanted to travel up through his body. The blindfold had been removed from his eyes, but it was still too dark to make much out even if he dared to look up. He recognized Lucius’ firm hand on his shoulder all the same, reassuring and even perhaps a bit proud. No doubt the Malfoy heir **was** proud, of having brought in someone now being thrust into such high regard after such a short time. If they were still in the same positions as when they were first blindfolded and bound, then Rosier would be to his left, and Regulus would be to his right.

The younger Black was trembling openly, but from adrenaline rather than fear Severus presumed. This was, after all, what he had wanted. Regulus had begged and cajoled, and finally Lucius had relented and let the teen join them throughout the summer. And to Severus’ dismay, Regulus threw himself into their initiation duties with vigor, harassing and even torturing Muggles on occasion. He knew the boy just wanted to prove himself, and do what he felt was his family duty. It did not make it any easier for Severus to stomach anything he had seen Regulus do, and what he himself had done.

He felt like a fool for ever wanting this. It had only taken the screams of the first woman, the sound of it scoring marks into his soul, and Severus felt shame for ever thinking he would enjoy this. He did not think he would ever sleep all the way through the night ever again, let alone be capable of taking joy and pride in such actions against another living being.

“Bare your arms to me.” The Dark Lord commanded harshly from somewhere in front of the newest members of his Inner Circle of Death Eaters. The magical bonds that held their wrists behind their backs dissolved into nothingness in an instant.

Severus numbly complied, rolling back the left sleeve of his robe and holding up his arm like an offering. By chance his eyes caught his friend's, and Regulus gave him a tiny smile that was meant to be comforting. It made the sickness in his stomach worse, but Severus nodded to him before looking away.

Six other young men were also on their knees in a loose and wide circle in what appeared to be an old and scarcely used parlor. They, like Severus and Regulus both, had been blindfolded and Side-Alonged by the Marked member of the Inner Circle who had brought them here and now stood behind them. Lord Voldemort himself stood in the center, lazily inspecting his devoted ones.

“You have proven yourselves to me over the weeks past. You will be rewarded for your service when my vision of a new Wizard-led world is complete, so long as you remember that I am your one true Master.” Voldemort looked into each of their eyes, as he so often did. When he slipped into Severus’ mind, Severus was ready for it, his Occlumency shields always in place in some way.

Careful to clear his mind of all thoughts other than memories of the last family they had toyed with, Severus held the Dark Lord’s gaze as though reverent and awe-stricken. It was what felt like a lifetime later when the intrusive thrust of Voldemort’s Legilimency slithered out from his mind like the great snake that was currently slithering in a circle around the perimeter of the room, and Severus felt like he could breathe once more. He noted as he glanced briefly across the circle that ironically, a room full of Slytherins – he knew they were all Slytherins, even though they were masked and cloaked right now – was on edge over a snake of all things.

His attention was brought to the Dark Lord as he watched the man draw a bone-white wand from within his billowing robes, clutching it between steady fingers, a wicked looking clawed curve at the end of it. Voldemort stepped towards them again, and looked down at Regulus first.

“You make your Lord proud, Regulus Black. My youngest Death Eater. You will continue to serve me well when you return to Hogwarts, I have no doubt. Go forth proudly. Spread our message within the great house of Slytherin. I gift to you the Dark Mark.”

Severus did not want to watch but could not look away for fear of being exposed somehow. His own arm still extended and waiting, he watched as Voldemort pressed the tip of the wand to Regulus’ unblemished forearm, and hissed “ _Morsmordre Carnes_ ”, tracing an infinity loop with deadly precision.

The smell of burning flesh filled Severus’ nose, and Regulus bit down hard on his own lower lip to not make a sound, but Severus could see the tears of pain threatening to spill from his eyes as the Dark Mark began to burn and etch into his skin. The Dark Lord traced his wand again in the same motion, and the familiar snake and skull filled in on Regulus’s arm in what appeared to be shimmering black ink. Around the mark, the skin was red and charred, blistering badly in places.

Before he knew it, Severus was under Voldemort’s gaze himself as a very pale and worn looking Regulus lowered his wounded arm to rest limply against the carpet.

“Severus. You have risen above your tainted blood. You exemplify many qualities that Slytherin himself valued, and have earned your place at my side, among my most loyal. You have expressed intent before to cast off your filthy Muggle father’s name. Will you take back the pride of the name of Prince, and rebuild it as you have rebuilt yourself?”

“Yes, My Lord. Nothing would please me more than to take my true name.”

Voldemort gave an approximation to approval with a predatory sneer. “Good. Then you are as deserving as I thought. Severus Prince, I gift to you the Dark Mark.”

The wand pressed against his skin, and Severus felt like he was made of stone as he lowered his eyes to watch. He thought he was used to physical pain by now; his father had seen to that. But this was far worse than any fist he had endured. He felt as though his blood was boiling beneath his skin, as though a living thing were writhing beneath the surface, threatening to burst forth.

He bit the inside of his cheek to hold in the scream that wanted to tear from his lungs. The familiar scent of cooking meat started to hit him again. His mental walls broke down a little in his moment of weakness, and he could hear almost Petunia’s voice in his mind, whispering “ _If it makes any difference, I’ll be here to help you…_ ”. The thought of her brought the memory of the scent of her perfume to his mind – it was going to drive him _mad_ if he did not find out what that damned perfume was called, he wanted to smell it on his pillows at night, have it on his clothing lingering from her –

The Dark Mark glittered into life against his pale arm. It twitched as he clenched his fist. Severus got a grip on himself as the worst of the pain started to dull into a deep and throbbing ache, the sheer overload of the process finally dulling his nerve endings he presumed. Seconds later, the Dark Lord had stepped on to the next, and Severus drew himself protectively into the nothingness of the moment.

He chased the heady scent of flowers in his mind, almost able to push away everything else to catch the ghost of it over the foul odor of the room. He allowed himself only a moment to think of Petunia, before he drew his Occlumency back around him like a protective cloak and forced his thoughts of her safely behind their own wall. It was what he had feared and yet somehow let happen anyway.

Severus put up his calm front, willing himself to hold his damnable thoughts and emotions in just a little longer, until his duty this night was through, and he could escape. But even as he thought it, he knew he would not truly escape till the fighting was done, however long that would take. He knew full well that he might also never escape the damage that this war had already caused and would continue to cause within. He may find refuge for a moment, but not an escape till the bitter end.

He knew where that moment’s refuge would be, at least at the end of tonight - if only the night would end.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! Some of you may notice that the ending note from the last chapter was changed - that is because I re-arranged a few things, so I apologize for any confusion! 
> 
> General note: I took liberties with how the Dark Mark is applied, since we are only ever told how it is cast into the sky in canon. Also, I can officially say that chapter 12 will be our first from Reggie's POV, as I have just a little more to finish up with Petunia and Severus before we move into the next arc. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading this, and for all the feedback. I welcome it all, negative or positive, and I sincerely thank you for your support!
> 
> Till next time (in which Severus rides the emotional roller coaster),  
> -TR


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Nothing too terrible this time, just some very mild sexual content mentioned. (Not in the way you are probably thinking, sorry to get some of your hopes up!)

* * *

_31 st August, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

It was only when Dusty pulled back her comforter in his talons and pecked at her hand relentlessly that Petunia opened her bleary eyes and swatted at him. The owl hooted indignantly and swooped aside, avoiding her hand. He had been hooting at her for at least the past few minutes and she had been trying to ignore him, and had been succeeding till he decided to up the ante.

“Why the devil are you waking me up at…” she clicked on the lamp and checked the old alarm clock on her bedside table, where the hands pointed to the two and just past the six, “At two-thirty-one in the morning on a Thursday? I have work in a few hours you lunatic bird!”

The owl flapped his wings furiously and glided out of the bedroom. She put her face in her hands, and had half a mind to lay right back down until she heard what sounded like a man’s voice in the front room. Terror took her for a moment, wondering what she would do with an intruder. She thought for a moment that perhaps she should phone the police and lock herself in the bathroom, then thought that perhaps she should try to find something to defend herself with and get the jump on him.

When she heard a muffled thump and the sound of swearing, she leapt instinctively from the bed and grabbed the decorative vase she kept on her windowsill, running out into the front room in her nightdress. When she turned the corner brandishing the vase over her head and snarling, she nearly ran headlong into Severus’ familiar figure as Dusty flipped the light switch on with his beak.

Severus’ eyes went wide as he took in the much smaller Petunia wielding her vase. She started to check her swing even before he reached up and grabbed both of her wrists in his large right hand to stop the impending impact.

“What are you planning to do with that, plant and water me?” he hissed, in annoyance and obvious pain. Petunia noticed briefly as she looked down in her glance around the room that he was favoring his right leg. From the way the coffee table now sat askew, she presumed he had run into it in the dark, accounting for the noise and the swearing she had heard from her bedroom.

“Keep it up and I’ll be potting the daisies you’ll be pushing up instead!” she hissed right back at him, pulling her arms free and dropping the vase down with a soft thump on the floor. “What the hell is the matter with you! Popping up at this hour, on a weekday no less when I have work in the morning and then sending Dusty all in a panic and why are you favoring your arm like that?” Petunia finally noticed that Severus’ left arm was hanging limply by his side.

His already deep voice grew even rougher, low and pained like the groaning wind of a brutal winter storm. “I took the Mark tonight. So did my friend Regulus. It was branded into our skin.”

Petunia reached for his left arm, only to have Severus violently twitch away and clutch his forearm, and then groan in pain at his own movement.

“Let me help you.”

He shook his head no, and she did not know if it was shame or his stubborn sense of pride causing it, but she ignored him and grabbed his arm by the elbow anyway.

“Severus please, let me help you. You came to me and broke in for a reason, didn’t you?”

He looked affronted. “I did not break in; I simply unlocked the door.”

“With a spell, not a key, so that is in fact breaking in, Sev. Now please, let me see?”

She watched his resolve crumble, the haughty and snarky protective façade dropping and revealing the trouble and hurt that must have been tumbling through him. Finally, he moved his hand and released his forearm. Petunia removed her hand and waited patiently as he started to pull back the sleeve of his cloak with his suddenly unsteady right hand. The slight tremble in his hand unnerved her, because she knew how uncharacteristic it was of him. Even the amount of emotion he was showing now was out of place, and she wondered at why he was so willing to show it to her of all people.

The robe caught on his arm every so often as he pulled it back, and she gasped aloud before she could stop herself, taking in the burns and blisters on his skin. The mark itself did not bother her too much; while she was not a fan of tattoos in her past life at all, the symbol did not strike the same fear in her that it struck in the heart of a witch or wizard opposing it.

“Oh Severus, that looks so painful. You can’t just…heal it?” she gestured as though waving a wand, and Severus shook his head.

“The few healing spells I know well enough to use are for cuts and broken bones.”

Petunia did not at all like how softly he said that. But she knew that right now he needed her to keep a level head when he was so clearly trying to hold it together. “We’ll do this the old-fashioned way then. Sit down on the sofa. I’ll fetch the first-aid kit.”

For once, he obeyed her without question. When she returned from the bathroom with her box he was still sitting on the couch as told, and staring at the mark on his arm. Petunia set the white metal box down on the coffee table, pushed the table straight again, and set to work to treat his burns.

They spent the next several moments in heavy silence as she cleaned and dressed the worst of the burns around the skull and snake, fingertips gently rubbing in the burn salve and finally wrapping a thin layer of gauze over the whole thing. The outline of the mark was still visible beneath the bandage.

“There we are. I don’t want to wrap it too tightly, blisters and burns need air to heal up. Just change the dressing when you get home. I’ll put together a little bag for you to take.” She gave him a small smile, as she might have done had Dudley skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

Severus turned from her and stared back down at his bandaged arm, saying nothing.

Petunia said his name, waited a beat, and got no response. She tried again. “Severus?” Still, he remained silent, and she watched his chest heave as his breathing went ragged.

“Severus you’re starting to frighten me. Please, tell me what’s the matter?”

She laid a hand on his knee, barely a touch, and something broke down within him before her eyes. He trembled, raising his right hand to cover his eyes, grimacing as though he had a migraine.

“What **isn’t** the matter!?” he spat out, hand still covering the upper half of his face. “I’ve just damned myself! I let him carve a symbol into my flesh that I don’t even believe in any longer! I watched my friend take it too, he’s only sixteen, Petunia! He’s sixteen and he knows nothing outside of what his family has indoctrinated him to know! I’m not much older than he is and I have already seen and done too much! This is insanity, I am going to be found out sooner or later and it will be the death of me!”

She wanted to flinch, but she knew him well enough by now to know the venom in his voice was not directed at her, and her hand tightened on his knee to try to anchor him.

“Severus you’re doing a very dangerous thing but it’s a necessary thing, a _good_ thing even. You’re helping Dumbledore, you’re helping the Order of the-”

“I don’t give a damn about Dumbledore’s bloody Order! I did this to save Lily, for you!”

Petunia was grateful Severus was not looking at her, because she felt the heat rising in her face at the most inappropriate time, but the words _“for you”_ lingered in her ears for a moment after.

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’m sorry you had to do this.” She knew it sounded pitifully underwhelming, but she was sincere. She hadn’t wanted him to have to go through this, or do any of the terrible things he had written to her about. The familiar feeling of guilt twisted her heart, threatening to send her into an anxiety attack of her own, when she was drawn back to him by the sound of a sniffle.

Her head snapped to him immediately, and she swore hell had frosted over because there were trails of what looked like tears squeezing out from under the hand on his face. She would not have believed it if she had not been watching it happen right in front of her.

“I nearly…It took everything I had to not lose my composure there, and when we were set loose, I couldn’t…I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t even _breathe_ but I thought of you - I thought of you and then I was here before I knew what I was doing.” He halted a few times, each word dragging itself out of his lips painfully, like he was crawling over glass on hands and knees.

She lifted her hand from his knee, and being careful of his newly bandaged arm, Petunia put her hands on his shoulders and pulled Severus towards her. He resisted at first, out of what she figured was old habit, but her hands were insistent; finally, he relented and she felt him go limp. She pulled him close to her, leaning back and raising her chin as she pulled his head flush against her chest, his narrow shoulder against her ribs, his left arm still extended but cushioned by her stomach. His right hand only fell away from his face when she could no longer see it. Petunia continued to lie back until her head settled against the armrest of the couch, and Severus was lying against her.

“Pull your legs up onto the sofa as best you can.” She instructed gently. He was too much in shock to protest it seemed, all the fight gone out of him as he pulled his long legs up and nestled them awkwardly between her slender legs and the back of the couch.

They were a messy tangle of black robes and lilac cotton nightdress and skinny limbs, but Petunia was tired, and she knew Severus was exhausted mentally and emotionally. He was no doubt embarrassed by this whole situation, and she tried to quiet her pounding heart so he would not hear it and figure out how he was affecting her right now. She kept her arms protectively wrapped around him, one hand on the back of his head – his hair was overly oily again, and she resolved to teach him to take better care of it one of these days, but she kept it there nonetheless – and the other hand draped across his torso. She could feel more tears dripping warm and wet against her chest, but she said nothing. Instead Petunia listened as his breathing eventually evened out, and she managed to stay awake just long enough to softly murmur “You’re safe now” before she slipped into slumber once more.

* * *

Petunia wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when her brain finally registered the distant clanging chimes of her alarm clock, muffled slightly by the distance between her position on her couch, and the alarm’s position on her bedside table in the other room. Willing her heavy eyelids to open, she became aware all at once of the warm weight draped over her body, from the boy – should she think of him as a boy, when he was of age and legally a man now? – still wrapped up in her arms like a lover would be, and still fast asleep.

She had no desire to move at all. She had missed the comforting feeling of someone sleeping beside her, and from the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes she had a suspicion that Severus had not slept much lately himself. The insistent ringing continued however, and with a groan she unwound her arms from Severus and gently shook his shoulder.

“Sev. Up you get. My alarm is going off, I need to get ready for work.”

He still seemed to be fighting against consciousness and not fully aware of his location, as he responded by grumbling and turning his face. Unfortunately for Petunia, his head was still on her chest, and turning his face placed it directly between her breasts, his large hooked nose pressing snugly into the space between them. The sound she made was entirely undignified, her face flushing from both the scandal of it and from the fact that she didn’t at all mind it happening. Petunia pushed aside all of her conflicting feelings, and out of instinct for her modesty, she smacked the back of his head just hard enough to hopefully wake him without causing any true pain.

“Severus! _Wake up!_ ” she all but commanded. Finally roused by the slap to the back of his head and her insistent tone, Severus sat up in a rush, wide-eyed and panicked as he came face to face with her and then swiftly backed away, scurrying hand over hand and pushing himself till he was leaning against the other armrest, his knees drawn up, robes a tangled mess around his limbs.

“Sorry to wake you so suddenly but my alarm is going off and I’ve still got work today.” Petunia knew her face was still warm from her guilty thoughts, but she knew better than to acknowledge what had just happened, lest she startle him and cause him to run like a panicked rabbit.

He cleared his throat, looking everywhere but at her. “…what time is it, anyway?”

“I don’t actually know…hold on a moment.” She turned towards the kitchen, where a clock hung over the oven. “It’s half past eight.”

Her own words finally caught up to her. “Oh no! It’s half past eight!” Petunia leapt from the couch in an instant, almost tripping over her own feet in the process.

“Is that significant for some reason?” Severus asked, arching a brow at her sudden panic.

“I start work at NINE!” she called over her shoulder as she ran into her bedroom. She dashed around one side of the bed, slammed her palm down on the button on top of her alarm clock to silence it, and rushed back around the bed and into her bathroom to start the shower. Remembering that she still had someone sitting on her couch, Petunia rushed back out front and blurted out in a rush “You know where the kitchen is help yourself to whatever you’d like for breakfast I’ll be out in a few minutes!”. She turned on her heel without awaiting his reply, and ran back into the bathroom.

Petunia took what had to have been the quickest shower of her entire existence and pulled on her underclothes without bothering to let her skin completely dry. She fought with her bra for a good minute before managing to clasp it and adjust herself, but gave up after thirty seconds of struggling to pull a stocking over her still-damp left foot. She wiggled into the first dress she grabbed from the closet, pulling a pair of heels down that she hoped to high heaven matched her outfit. Her hair was still damp as she went back into the living room with brush in one hand, bobby pins in between her lips, shoes in the other hand. She hadn’t even put on makeup and knew she must look an awful mess.

She started to speak, then remembered the pins in her mouth and grumbled. It took two attempts to get her blonde locks swept up into a bun at the nape of her neck and pin it in place so that it would actually hold. The hairbrush found a new home tossed on her couch, and finally she could talk.

“I’m sorry to cut and run on you like this, Severus.” She braced a hand on the wall to put her heels on. Severus had moved himself into the kitchen and was buttering two slices of toast as she addressed him. “You’re welcome to stay however long you need. Just lock up when you go, please.”

She immediately began to fret, knowing that she again sounded like she was mothering him, which was in direct odds to the _thing_ she was still trying her hardest to not admit to herself. It was not affection from mother to child she had felt in comforting him earlier, it was a friend comforting a friend. And if she were willing to admit to the _thing_ she would not admit, it was a bit more than that.

“Alright. I will.” He said plainly, tone neutral and belying the emotional turmoil from just a few short hours ago. Petunia tried to not be put out by how closed off he was being now, but she figured he was likely trying to cope with the after-effect of having been forced to feel and to contain and then to at last release so much emotion so very deeply the night before and earlier this same morning.

In the years that she had known him growing up, Severus’ default emotions had been anger and haughty disdain. He was not one to show much to anyone beyond those two things. She of course knew better now; she had been shown his sadness, his passions, and now his fears and anxieties. And that, she thought, was precisely why he was putting his protective walls of detachment and stoicism back in place, to pretend that he had not exposed so much of his inner self to her and to center himself once again. Not for the first time, she wished he did not feel it had to be that way.

Severus wrapped the slices of toast in a paper napkin, and held the little bundle out to her. “You should eat something. Even though it’s not a proper breakfast.” Again, his tone held even and calm.

She felt her heart thudding painfully in her chest, and she had to clear her throat as she took it from him. “You’re very sweet when you want to be. Thank you, Severus.” She smiled fondly at him.

He nodded stiffly in return. Petunia took her purse from the coffee table and dropped her keys into it, careful not to run into it as Severus had earlier as she made for the door.

“Petunia?”

She turned back to see him looking rather uncomfortable, his head down. “Hm?”

“…the perfume you’re always wearing. What is it called?”

The question had her taken aback for a moment, entirely unexpected. “Nothing too exotic. It’s just Chanel number five. Why?”

He took a long moment to answer, still not looking at her. “…It’s very pretty. It suits you well.”

She had no idea what it must have cost him emotionally to say such a thing, and she knew compliments were not his way in the least so since it was lacking his endless bounds of sarcasm, it must have been sincere. She felt a surge of warmth blossom in her chest and in that moment, she wanted to kiss him. The _thing_ she was struggling with came roaring back up and she stubbornly wrestled it down to smile quite sincerely back at him. “Thank you. I’m flattered, truly.”

Severus shook his head and finally looked at her. “Thank **you**. For…everything.”

Petunia absolutely could not take anymore. If he carried on this way, being what amounted to very sweet and almost affectionate coming from him, she was going to do something impulsive and very improper and in any case, she told herself, he probably saw her as an older sister or even a secondary mother figure, especially considering the sizeable age gap that he knew truly existed between them, however close in age they may currently be physically. 

She was panicking and she knew it. Taking a page from his book, she nodded at his words as a silent “You’re welcome” and waved goodbye, beating a hasty retreat from her own flat.

* * *

Petunia spent the entire half-walk half-jog to the Grunnings office replaying the events of the morning, from when Dusty first woke her to the moment she fled from the flat. For as much as she wanted Severus to open up about his feelings and be comfortable with showing them to her, Petunia felt like a coward in her own right. She knew what was happening and she hated it.

At first, when the feelings had begun, she told herself any number of things to deny it. It was just loneliness, she reasoned at first. She was adjusting to being single after so long as a married woman. She was just feeling motherly affection for him since she saw him as just a wayward teen at first, still growing into a more confident adult. But he was an adult now – a young one, yes, but an adult nonetheless. And he was an adult on a very, very dangerous assignment that he was only on because she had dragged him into her madhouse scheme to save her little sister from her original fate.

She had meant what she said to Remus a few days before – Severus wasn’t a bad person at all. Though no innocent himself, she had grown to admire his intelligence, his biting sarcasm, his desire to be the best at everything he possibly could be, and his survivor’s instinct. She thought that perhaps she just felt friendly affection and admiration for him due to their now somewhat close friendship.

Still, no matter how Petunia tried to justify it, even going so far as to chalk it up to just feeling empathy for him and his own friendless and loveless life, she knew better. She knew better, and now she was frightened to confess it even in her own head. But when her thoughts turned this time to the feeling of his body against hers, warm and comforting, Petunia felt uneasy. And then the memory of his face between her breasts brought heat to her face, and before she could stop herself, she wondered what it would feel like to have his face pressed to other parts of her, and his rather large nose pressing against more sensitive places. The heat was in more than her face before she could tear herself away from the trail of her increasingly passionate thoughts. She tried to tell herself that she just hadn’t had any fulfillment in that sort of way in a very long time, and it was addling her reasoning. But the damage was already done, and she finally had to stop running from it and pretending it wasn’t there.

In the eight months since she had returned to the past, she had fallen, and she had fallen _hard –_ for the man who was very likely still in love with her sister, and probably always would be. Petunia Evans was undeniably, inexplicable head-over-heels in love with Severus Snape.

And there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

* * *

_31 st August, 1978 – Cokeworth, The Midlands, England _

Severus had hoped fervently as he quietly crept back into the back door of the house that his mother was still asleep. In the past, she very well could have slept till noon - especially if she had been drinking, or fighting with his father, or both - as she often had since he was of Hogwarts age. 

His luck had of course always been rather poor, and today was no different. Eileen was standing in the middle of the kitchen, and had spotted him the moment he entered. From the way her heavy brow was furrowed, and the tightness in her arms as she crossed them over against her stomach, Severus knew he was in for it.

“So nice of you to finally join me, Severus.” Eileen’s voice was dripping with false pleasantness. It vanished a moment later as she waspishly inquired, “Care to tell me where the hell you’ve been all night and all morning?! Took off without a word, no note left behind, nothing!”

Severus looked away, folding his own arms over. He was careful of his left forearm where the burns were still raw and painful beneath the bandages Petunia had wrapped about them, and tried desperately to not give his injury away. _“She picked a fine time to start acting like a proper parent…”_ he thought sullenly to himself. While he was quite annoyed at his mother’s intrusion into his private affairs, Severus had to admit that since his graduation, she had at least been trying to make up for the years of neglecting him intermittently.

It had not always been awful in the Snape household, at least not when Tobias was out in town and leaving mother and son in peace. Severus still held tightly to the memories of sitting with his mother in the kitchen, learning about the magical world from whence she came, and practicing spellwork with her old and worn seldom-used wand. As the years went on, and Eileen was left alone with her husband for large portions of the year, things grew worse. She turned to the bottle in her heartache, though it was her husband’s over-reliance on the bottle that caused much of the friction in the home to begin with. Severus was used to the bad days, where she was too tired from fighting with his usually half-drunk father to do anything but drink more herself, or be miserably ill in bed from the toll it took on her body and mind. And despite his bitterness at how he felt she had failed him as a mother, Severus felt that Eileen was a victim as well, and did his best to care for her at her worst. He could not be angry with her now, not when she was making an effort like he had always wished to himself she would.

“I’m sorry, mum. Lucius owled that he needed help rather urgently with the long-brew potion he’s been fussing with and by the time I helped him correct it, it was already well past midnight. He let me stay over to rest.” The lie fell cleanly from his lips, and he was grateful to Dumbledore once more for the advanced level Occlumency lessons that enabled him to be dishonest so efficiently. If only it worked when lying to himself, it would be perfect.

Eileen hunched her bony shoulders and narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to find some crack in his story to pounce upon. Finding none, she unfolded her arms and sighed.

“You’re always running off with that Malfoy character now. His father has always been a pompous and self-important fool. And even then, you should have more pride than that, to go running off at his whims without hesitation.”

“I have to be nice to him, mum. I wouldn’t have my Potioneer apprenticeship without him. He’s influential, and if I fall out of his favor and can’t get work, then where would we be?”

Eileen rolled her eyes, but Severus knew she would not argue, and his words were true. He had stretched out the money from Petunia better than even he thought he could, but it would not have lasted much longer. It was a stroke of fortune when Lucius had pulled him aside the month prior to tell him that he secured an apprenticeship for the younger man. And so Severus had been working and earning his own wages as a junior apothecary and potioneer in the Knockturn Alley location of Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary since the start of August.

“I am grateful for your help, dearest. Don’t think that I’m not.” She placed a hand on her son’s shoulder, looking up at him to give a ghost of a smile. “A mother is supposed to worry over her child. I am trying to be a proper one now.” She patted his cheek gently and busied herself over the stove once more, where a fragrant stew was bubbling softly in their dented old stock pot.

“You’re doing fine, mum.” Severus said softly to her. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. If Eileen was going to make the effort to be a better mother, then he would make the effort to be a better son than he had been. He turned to go up to his bedroom and lay down for some proper rest, when a thought crossed his mind from the awful events of the previous night. He turned back to his mother and tried to parse out how to run the next idea across her.

“One more thing, mum…I’ve been thinking.”

“I should hope so, or the last seven years of education were entirely wasted.”

He rolled his eyes behind her back. Like mother, like son, Eileen’s dry wit was. “I’ve had an idea for a little bit now that I want to go through with, but I wonder if you’d like to do it as well.”

Eileen turned to him and nodded for him to continue.

Thinking on how Petunia would do it, Severus decided to just come out with it.

“I want to change my name, now that da’s gone. I don’t want to be a Snape any longer. The name’s got nothing but bad memories for me. For both of us, I think. I want to go by Prince now.”

There was silence and a look of disbelief from his mother as Severus scuffed the back of his shoe across the faded linoleum tiles of the floor nervously, an old habit from childhood that he thought he had broken years before. He still needed to work on some of his nervous tics, it seemed.

It was a long moment yet before Eileen spoke. “Do you think the name of the family that cast me out for marrying a Muggle man is any better?”

“I do. Because from what you’ve been willing to tell me, the Prince family was of some importance, once. And they didn’t spend their wages on cheap drinks at the pub every week. Or shout at us. Or raise hands to us.” Severus stubbornly countered.

Eileen considered his words, tension all but radiating from her body. “…I suppose not. But they still had their prejudices and were set in the old ways. You see that we’re the only two left now, don’t you? Why do you think that is? Stubbornness. Refusal to change with the times.” She shook her head. “Suppose it’s my fault that you fit in with that. Don’t look so wounded, it’s the surest sign that you are undoubtedly my child. I carry the same traits and look where it led us both.”

Severus saw his opportunity in her reply to rebut again, knowing he had the winning argument in hand now. “So why not reclaim the name and make it better on our own? That would be the best revenge, wouldn’t it? To take back what they ran into the ground and start over.”

“Are you certain you want to become a Master Potioneer instead of a barrister for the Wizengamot?” Eileen wryly asked her son, raising an eyebrow so similarly to how he often did.

“Quite. I can’t claim to “accidentally” poison someone if they annoy me as a barrister.” Severus smirked as his mother snorted despite her attempt to look stern.

She shook her head at him, waving him off. “If you want to change your name you have my blessing. I…I need more time to think it over, for myself. But do as you wish.”

Feeling relief wash through him, Severus thanked his mother and made for his room at last, with one less thing to worry about. He would file the paperwork with the Ministry another day, but for now he had at least followed through on his promise to the Dark Lord, and to himself.

He made his way up the staircase and to the right, into his small but tidy bedroom, and threw himself still in his robes onto his bed to take a much deserved – in his opinion anyway – rest.

* * *

Severus lay in his bed once more much later that evening after a quiet afternoon and evening with his mother and stared at the cracks in the plaster of the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he tried, he closed his eyes only to feel Petunia’s warmth against him, or swear he could smell the faintest hint of Chanel, the under-notes still lingering on her skin even the morning after she had last put it on.

This was going to be the death of him. He had said it before. He still believed it now.

He had been trying to deny it even before their dancing lessons cemented the truth. Even now he still did not wish to admit it, even to himself in the privacy of his mind. It was just one more thing he had to fight to hide behind the safety of his Occlumency, another person to fear losing. It was like what he had felt once for Lily, but magnified on a grand scale. He knew that his boyhood crush on his former best friend had cooled now, faded into what it started as – the strong compassion and affection for a dear friend. He cared for Lily even now. But what he felt for Petunia was dangerous in its heat.

When he had showed up at her door in the early hours of the morning after the Marking, he was half-dazed in pain and emotional turmoil, but he knew so clearly that he needed her. And rather than turn him away as she ought to have, she tended his wounds, she listened to him, and comforted him without expecting anything in return or indicating that she would ask a favor later. It was different, and new, and it left him feeling both stronger than steel and weaker than a newborn child.

Severus could not deny it any longer, and he knew it. Yet still he tried, attempting any justification he could; perhaps it was just his happiness at having a friend again, or having someone on his side. It could have even been like he thought before, just a reaction to his own inexperience with girls making him go nutters over the first one since Lily that was even a little bit kind to him. He even thought that just maybe, he was drawn to the mothering instinct in her, and saw a sort of surrogate for Eileen and was just longing for a maternal figure.

But then she had pulled him into her arms and held him, not just a brief and awkward hug, but a true embrace, and she had held him for several hours that way. He had never been so at peace in his life. The moment had pulled him out of his despair and set him back on his course.

Heat rushing to his face, he remembered the half-dazed moment where he had come back into consciousness, and his face was ensconced in the pillow softness of her breasts. He hoped to Merlin or God – whichever gave a damn about a half-blood wizard – that Petunia had been half asleep herself and did not remember that truly embarrassing moment. But Severus would not forget it any time soon. Idly, his mind wandered to the feeling of her arms around him, and he wondered what it would be like to have her arms around him for entirely different reasons, what it would feel like to slide a hand up her nightdress, or to slip down and press his face down into other, more sensitive places.

Embarrassed at the baser nature his thoughts had given in to, he stood up and walked – with a little bit of difficulty now – to his window, sliding it open to let the coolness of the night air wash over him. The foul-smelling wind from the waterfront had at least cooled the heat pooling in his abdomen.

But it could not take away the one fact that he was finally too tired to deny any longer, at least to himself. Somehow, in the course of the eight months since she had shown up at his door and tried to make peace with him, he had fallen for her, and he had fallen _hard_. Severus Snape – soon to be Prince – was undeniably, inexplicably head-over-heels in love with Petunia Evans.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we finally get something out of these two, at least to themselves! We'll be back with the pair of them soon enough, but it's Regulus' time to shine in the next chapter (FINALLY!). 
> 
> On a personal note: I will probably need to take a break from writing for a little bit for my sanity and for the sake of plotting out where a few things are going to go, but it won't be for too long, perhaps just two weeks instead of one in between. Either way I'll be back shortly!
> 
> Thank you so, so much as always for reading and for your feedback. I welcome it all and I thank you sincerely for taking the time to give my little story a chance!
> 
> Till next time (in which we go back to school with Reggie),  
> -TR


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: None for this chapter. It's very tame.

* * *

_31 st October, 1978 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

Since nearly day one of starting his magical education at Hogwarts, Regulus had longed for the day that he would be the only member of House Black in residence at the castle. The older brother that he was once so close to, had looked up to and loved dearly, he was dead to him nearly on arrival. The sorting into Gryffindor had been the first sign, followed by the countless letters home from the school about what Sirius had done week after week under the influence of the pack of idiots he had wedged himself into. By the time Regulus arrived at the school two years later, Sirius was his brother in name only. They had gotten into countless fights both verbal and otherwise – when Sirius actually cared to acknowledge his existence – up till the day the elder was disowned. Regulus had grown to resent him, and to resent the damage his older brother was doing to the family name. And so, he had counted down the days and weeks and months until he would have the distinction of being the only Black on campus.

But now that he finally had that distinction he had fervently and sometimes tearfully wished for, and had all of the positive attention that went with it, Regulus found himself wanting to be anywhere else _but_ here. He found it almost funny in a sad sort of way that all the normal teenage things that mattered most to him not long before – Quidditch, boys, popularity – could not fully hold his interest, not when he was now meant to be part of something far greater outside of the castle walls.

His eyes flicked down to his left arm, where the Dark Mark lay beneath the long dark gray sleeve of his favorite dress robes. He was envious of his Marked family and friends, of Lucius and Severus and Rodolphus and even his bitch cousin Bella. They were all out there night after night trying to make a better magical world for everyone who was worthy, while he was stuck going to school, still playing the part of the dutiful student, still leading the Slytherin Quidditch team towards the House Cup, and stuck attending this stupid after-dinner Halloween party.

Still, being a part of his potion master’s little social club had given him access to talented students in other houses that he would not interact with normally – still mostly purebloods, thank Merlin – and provided him a whole host of connections he fully intended to work to whatever advantage he needed when he finally got out of school in another year and a half. Sometimes it was easy to see who was going to go on to do great things, while other times it was those you least expected who went on to become famous. A veteran at navigating the higher tiers of society, Regulus knew this at age sixteen better than most people twice his age. You just never knew who would turn out to be valuable later down the line. And that was why he found himself holding a glass of spiked pumpkin juice presently, and pretending to listen to some idiotic but still somewhat attractive blonde Fifth Year Ravenclaw bragging about how he would travel the world, make a Philosopher’s Stone from scratch in his dormitory within the next two years, become a Quidditch captain for a pro team – despite not having any prior Quidditch experience – and become Minister for Magic, all as part of his post-graduation Ten Year Plan.

Regulus was starting to wonder if he could somehow feign sudden illness convincingly enough to get away from the increasingly absurd claims when a hand delicately settled against his left elbow and another lay against the arm of his conversation partner. He and the Fifth Year both turned towards the newcomer, and before the youngest Black could even start to tell off whoever had dared to put their filthy hands on him, he was face to face with a pale and freckled straw-blonde with dark eyes who smiled pleasantly at them both.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to cut into your conversation Gilderoy, but might I pull Master Black away for a moment to discuss something with him?”

“Well if you _must_ , then go ahead Barty my friend! I think I’ve left the ladies longing for my presence too long anyway. They can’t get enough of me, you understand of course. But Regulus, any time you’d like to hear the extended version of my Ten-Year Plan, come seek me out and I will happily explain it to you in more detail!” Gilderoy grinned toothily at him and winked.

Regulus only just managed to not groan in annoyance at his cheek and pompousness as the oblivious boy turned with a flourish and flounced away towards an unsuspecting group of girls. As soon as the prat was gone, Regulus turned to his savior.

“Just earned yourself a favor there, Crouch.”

The blonde who remained smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair over his ear. “Lockhart is always a handful. I apologize, he makes the rest of our House look bad.” He looked around them a bit, found their fellow students all off in little cliques on their own, and leaned in close to Regulus to whisper “And I should tell you, he’s also a filthy half-breed. May want to wash your hands if he touched you.”

A heavy look passed between the two Sixth Years as Regulus processed what he had heard. While the Crouch family was also part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight just like the Black family, they tended to keep poor company, consorting with half-breeds and Muggleborns. Additionally, Bartemius Crouch Senior was the hard-edged head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, currently dedicated to the harsh punishment of any Death Eaters they got their hands on. With the knowledge of that, Regulus would never have expected the mild-mannered and polite “teachers’ favorite Ravenclaw” Barty Crouch Junior of all people to have a proper respect for blood purity.

“Duly noted.” Regulus gave him a coy smile, tilting his head to look the blonde over. “I figured you for the less…discerning type, when it came to the company you kept. Like your old man.”

Barty’s face darkened at the mention of his father. “Absolutely not. Just because he has no dignity or pride doesn’t mean I have to be the same. Besides, he’d have to actually be home long enough for me to see to him, let alone share any thoughts with the old bastard.”

“Daddy issues, hm? You poor thing.” Regulus took Barty by the arm and gently pulled him towards the nearest corner of the room. “Tell me, what was it you wanted to talk to me about when you rescued me from death by boredom?”

“I want to talk to you about… _him.”_ Barty laid his palm reverently over Regulus’ covered left forearm, his eyes all but glowing with barely restrained excitement. 

And now Regulus was excited himself. The Dark Lord had after all told him to spread their message. Granted Barty Crouch was not a Slytherin, but who was to say that other houses could not serve his master’s purpose as well? He knew that just because a large amount of Slytherins did fill the ranks of the Death Eaters, that did not mean they all were. There were some who had not gone to Hogwarts at all, having come from other places in Europe or been homeschooled.

Still, while he had not really done much to hide his allegiance other than keeping his Mark covered at all times, Regulus had to wonder how the younger Crouch had known. The positioning of his hand over Regulus’ Mark could by no means be an accident. He was going to find out how he knew, and if he did not like the answer he got, then Regulus was going to show just how much he had learned from his friend Severus over the years. Careful to keep his coy smile in place, Regulus made a low, thoughtful humming sound and put his face next to Barty’s ear. “We should find somewhere quiet. Lucky you, I know several quiet places down here. Come with me?”

Barty nodded, and Regulus put a hand on the crook of his arm in turn this time. They wove their way through their fellow Slug Club members, Regulus setting his glass down on the tray of one of his fellow students who had been conscripted into serving as a host for the party. Mercifully, their windbag of a professor was too occupied shoving himself into conversation with another group of students, and so the pair was able to slip out into the stillness of the dungeons unbothered.

* * *

The pair passed through the dim, torch-lit dungeon halls in silence as Regulus guided them around a few turns before reaching a rather spacious inset alcove where a life-sized statue had presumably stood once. He stepped into the alcove, and leaned back against one side of the inner walls, gesturing for Barty to join him on the other side of it. The blonde nodded and followed after, facing Regulus and leaning against the wall across from him.

“Do you come here often? Dark as it is down here you seemed to know the way without any hesitation.” Barty asked him, sounding impressed. Regulus couldn’t really see his face in great detail this far removed from any of the torch sconces, but he could see enough of it to find the genuine wonder on the other boy’s face somewhat endearing. Crouch was cute alright, Regulus decided. He almost wondered for a moment why he hadn’t set the Ravenclaw in his sights before – especially since he had made his way through several Ravenclaws already in his school years – before remembering his own statement just a few minutes before about thinking that Junior would hold the same opinions as Senior.

“Let’s just say I’m no stranger to this particular spot. And besides, I’ve lived down here for the past few years. I think I know the dungeons better than the ghosts by now.” Regulus couldn’t quite keep the pride out of his tone as he stated this. He then went to the more serious and pressing matter at hand, pulling his wand out from inside his robe and pressing it against the other boy’s pale throat.

“So. Barty darling. Before we go any further, I need to ask you how you came across the knowledge you so clearly have about me. And as much as I hate to threaten a boy on the first date, if your answer isn’t good enough, I’m going to have to make you hurt.” Regulus felt his wand move slightly in his hand as Barty swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“It’s a long story.”

Regulus pressed the wand tip a little harder against Barty’s throat. “Oh, I have time!” he cheerfully exclaimed. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

Barty nodded, and Regulus swore he saw the blonde’s eyes flick down at the wand before he began to speak. “At one of the Ministry events just before term started – my father drags mother and I to them sometimes, you know, to make it look like we’re the perfect family – I overheard him talking about work with his Head Auror. They were theorizing about Death Eater identities and the Head Auror, Moody I think his name is, he mentioned the Malfoy family. Something about them being known blood purists and how the patriarch was rumored to be why that Muggle-born Minister resigned a decade ago. So, I thought that if anyone would support or at least know about the Dark Lord it would be the Malfoy family. The family heir, Lucius, he’s got lots of connections in the Ministry and he’s not that much older than us.”

“Lucius is my cousin-in-law if that’s an actual thing. His wife is my favorite cousin.” Regulus chimed in, pulling his wand back a little bit. So far, the story was tracking well enough. “Go on.”

“I wrote to Lucius Malfoy last week and introduced myself, and stated that I was not like my father and I was interested in bringing some distinction back to the Crouch family because we’re Sacred Twenty-Eight but we don’t act like it. I asked his advice on how to do so. He wrote back the other day and told me to reach out to you, said you were part of a group that could help me. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. I suppose he thought you could take care of me if I wasn’t being honest.”

Satisfied, Regulus lowered his wand and tucked it away. “Why didn’t he write me to tell me? Oh. Oooh…” Realization hit him like a bludger to the face as he remembered the unopened letter from Lucius that **had** arrived yesterday, still sitting on his bedside table where it was most recently used as a bookmark in his Quidditch magazine. He wanted to smack himself for being so idiotic. He had received a letter from Severus the same day and had eagerly torn into it instead, leaving Lucius’ letter for later, and just never gone back to it. Some inner circle member HE was.

Barty was watching him intently, so Regulus shook himself from his self-chastising and found himself grateful for the dimness that was currently masking his embarrassed face.

“Well if I had the ability to, I’d give you five points to Ravenclaw for being a clever bitch. Now that you’ve found me what do you want me to do for you?”

“I have so much I want to know. I want to join Him too. I want to be out there fighting for our rights. We shouldn’t have to live in secrecy and fear of them after generations of oppression. I want something so much more than this. I just don’t know where to start, how to meet Him. I’m asking for your help, begging even. I’ll do whatever is needed, I just want to offer myself to His cause.”

The earnestness was too good to be faked, Regulus felt. And he could relate to it, as he himself had begged something similar of Lucius at the beginning of the summer. He knew firsthand the longing to help the Dark Lord’s cause, the desire to serve with the older ones that had the freedom he still needed to graduate to obtain. He was the youngest of the Death Eaters by far, and the youngest of the Inner Circle by the same measure. It would be nice to have someone his own age fighting along with him, Regulus mused with a small twinge of longing. He had told Severus true – he didn’t have very many friends. Dozens of admirers and hangers-on in his own house, acquaintances perhaps, but really his only actual friends were Severus and Rabastan, since he supposed Cissa didn’t count as she was family. Here was someone else who was right where he had been just a few months before. He couldn’t ignore Barty’s plea for help, and thus he made up his mind then and there to help the other boy.

“As cute as it is, you don’t have to beg. You’ve convinced me. I’ll help you.”

Even in the dark, Regulus could still make out Barty’s wide smile. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if you would even talk to me, you know? I’ve wanted to approach you before, about something else.”

Regulus was intrigued. “Oh? About what?” He grinned, familiar with a similar sort of song and dance, usually before some lovesick boy - or even a brave but clearly naïve girl from time to time - had confessed to holding some type of feeling for him.

“Er…Quidditch, actually. I love Quidditch and I probably don’t need to tell you that you’re quite good at it, being captain of your team and all.” Barty’s sheepish response was so whisper-soft that Regulus nearly missed it even in the quiet of the dungeons.

Once again, Regulus felt that unfamiliar flutter in his chest. That was not at all what he had been expecting to hear, but a thrill went through him all the same. “We have more in common than I thought! You know something Barty? I think we’re about to become very good friends.”

* * *

As it turned out, Barty had been a bit understated when he said he loved Quidditch – the boy was _obsessed_ with it. After a little prodding, Regulus soon learned that Barty had been forbidden from playing the sport himself – his mother was fearful of injury after he fell from his father’s old broom once as a young child and was rendered unconscious – but that he had followed it nonetheless. In kind, Regulus shared his own experiences with brooms as a child, only getting to fly when he visited relatives outside of the confines of London, discovering quite by accident how good he was at spotting small things from high up. Soon enough, the boys were sitting down and scooting towards the middle of the statue alcove to sit side by side as they started to really get to know one another. Conversation had flowed naturally from Quidditch to their opinions on Hogwarts and their respective houses, and then to their experiences during the O.W.L. exams the previous year. Eventually, the conversation wound back around to the topic of their families.

“My father is the one who was born into the main line of the House, but my mother is his second cousin. You know how it goes, everyone’s family at this point. Dad’s not awful I suppose, he’s very firm and acts like he’s the head of the family. But truthfully mum is the one with the real power and literally everyone knows it.” Regulus was about to get into the issue of his brother when he noticed how quiet Barty had gone, and how he was looking down with a grimace. “Barty? You alright?”

“They always think they’re so important, don’t they? Fathers, I mean. Mine certainly does.”

“Your father is rubbish and all of the other important families know it. It’s like he doesn’t know what sort of blood runs in his veins. I’m sorry that I lumped you in with him. You’re nothing like what I know of him.” Regulus nudged his shoulder into Barty’s, drawing a little smile from him.

“Thank you, Regulus. That means something to me, coming from a member of House Black. You know I still can’t believe Lucius Malfoy actually took me seriously and wrote me back.”

“He’s not as aloof as he seems at first. Luci is sort of the face of the inner circle, I suppose you could say. And he’s a perfect example of the ideal modern gentleman. Power, wealth, style, grace, pure blood… I look up to him an awful lot. I didn’t like him at first, when he asked Uncle Cygnus for permission to marry Cissa. But I like him now of course. I spend a lot of time at Malfoy manor now.”

“Because of my father I don’t know too many of the proper pureblood families personally. Do you think I would be able to meet some of them?”

Regulus gave him a sidelong glance. “What, did you think I would just throw you into the water and tell you to swim on your own? Of course you’ll meet them! Some of them anyway. Starting with Lucius. We don’t know everyone in the ranks; in case someone isn’t who they say they are we have to be able to protect ourselves, till we’re in charge once and for all. But the inner circle, we mostly know each other. We’re the only ones who are Marked, too.” He said with no shortage of pride.

Beside him, Barty licked his lips nervously and turned his whole body to face him.

“Do you think I could…could I see it, Regulus? Please?”

Regulus arched a brow and fixed him with a saucy look that even in the dimness he knew must have made the other boy blush – otherwise he had really lost his touch. “You know usually I’m the one asking that question. It’s so odd to have it directed at me.” He laughed when Barty’s eyes widened at the sudden realization of how suggestive his innocent query sounded. Still chuckling, Regulus put a hand on Barty’s knee. “Relax, I know what you meant! I’m just an enormous tease. So just be careful, I may accidentally make you fall in love with me. It’s happened before.”

“Are you always so…forward?” Barty sounded only slightly scandalized, and the rest of his tone seemed genuinely bashful, which amused Regulus more. Nice boys were always like this, he thought to himself, even when he was not trying to charm them.

“When I’m actually trying to pull? Yes. In this instance? No, I’m just having you on precisely because you still seem to uptight. You’re falling in with the proper crowd now, enjoy it a little. But here, since you asked me so nicely…” Regulus turned to face him better, and unbuttoned the sleeve of his dress robes. He gently pulled the fine fabric up his arm, revealing the skull and snake of the Dark Mark in bold black ink-like magic on his forearm. The skin had fully healed, the blisters and burns gone after his house elf had tended to the injuries. His parents had been proud of him, had commended him on choosing to serve behind a man they agreed with. While neither of his parents would serve the Dark Lord themselves – Walburga felt it was not the place of a genteel pureblooded woman to be a soldier, and Orion was too old and too sickly these days to be much help – they approved of Regulus doing so.

Barty leaned down a little, trying to get a better look. Regulus pulled his wand back out and lit the tip with a wordless Lumos to assist him, offering his arm up a little closer. The shyness ebbed away a little more, and Barty delicately took his hand, pulling Regulus’ arm up towards his face as his eyes moved carefully over ever detail of the symbol.

It was an innocuous action, and somehow it felt more intimate than anything Regulus had experienced before. He nearly dropped his wand when a strand of Barty’s hair fell from over his ear and brushed against the skin on Regulus’ arm. Annoyed with himself, he tightened his grip on his wand.

_“Keep it together Black, he’s just holding your hand to look at the Mark, for Merlin’s sake! Stop acting like some desperate little pubescent Third Year!”_ he scolded himself mentally.

“It’s beautiful.” Barty whispered, gently lowering Regulus’ arm to rest against his own thigh again.

It took a minute for Regulus to swallow the sudden dryness in his throat before he could reply. “Thanks. If it all goes well, maybe you’ll have one of your own soon enough.” He fixed Barty with one of his charming smiles before muttering Finite and snuffing out the light from his wand. “It’s probably quite late by now, we should get you back on your way to your tower. Can’t let the good little eagle get caught down here with a snake, now can we?” After buttoning his sleeve back up, Regulus stood and stretched his stiff legs, rubbing his thighs to his knees in an attempt to get the blood moving again. Barty did the same beside him, and the pair of them stepped back out into the still-empty corridor.

Regulus led him back through the dungeon halls in silence before they reached the staircase that led from the dungeons back towards the main hall of the castle.

“Trust you know your way from here?” Regulus teased, partly to cover his sudden feelings of mild sadness that the evening was coming to an end. He had enjoyed his time talking to Barty tonight in a way that he did not often get to do. The only other people he had really conversed with this freely about things were Severus and Narcissa. And his house elf too of course, but Kreacher was not a person and he was duty-bound to serve them, so he was not sure if that counted in the same way.

“I think I can manage.” Barty smiled warmly at him. “When can we meet up again? I have so many questions I still want to ask. I need to be ready to meet others, and know what to study, what to practice. I have catching up to do, I can’t be behind everyone else, I’ve got to –”

Regulus put a finger to his mouth to shush him, shaking his head in amusement. “You really are a true Ravenclaw aren’t you? Clever to a fault. Throwing yourself into a frenzy over something you like. You’re passionate. I can admire that.”

Barty’s eyes flicked down to Regulus’ finger on his mouth and then away. Regulus grinned – he knew he hadn’t lost his flirtatious touch after all – and withdrew his hand.

“We’ve got History of Magic together on Friday. Why don’t you come sit with me in class? Binns won’t notice a damn thing and I’ll introduce you to my friend Rabastan. He’s one of us too, just hasn’t earned his colors yet, if you know what I mean.”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan, then. I can’t wait.” Barty smiled radiantly at Regulus. “Just a few more days. In the meantime…”

It was Regulus’ turn to be left surprised, as Barty took his left hand and kissed the back of it, like some sort of knight taking the hand of his maiden of choice.

“Goodnight, Regulus.”

Regulus couldn’t remember if he said goodnight back or not. But he did not move till Barty’s retreating figured turned the corner, still wondering how in the hell someone had managed to leave **him** flustered for once, and with something so innocent at that. Tucking the thought away for further speculation later, he slipped back down to the dungeons.

* * *

Sitting up in his bed even later that night with the curtains drawn, Regulus finally read Lucius’ letter and began to write back that he had “rendezvoused successfully” with Barty Crouch as “planned”, that the other boy seemed to be genuine in his desire to join the Dark Lord’s forces, and that he was already eager to meet with Lucius and their allies. Regulus of course had no intention of telling Lucius how the first meeting had really happened, or that his carelessness put him at a slight disadvantage in the beginning of the conversation. What his cousin-in-law didn’t know couldn’t be used to admonish him later, after all. He finished that letter relatively quickly, signed it with his love and a request to hug Narcissa, and finally lay down to try to sleep.

After ten minutes of tossing and turning and being unable to get truly comfortable, Regulus sat back up with a sigh and dragged a hand through his bed-messy raven locks. “Never going to get any rest like this…need to call in the reinforcements…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking of his family home at 12 Grimmauld Place and pulling at the threads of the old magic that blood-bound him inextricably to the residence.

“Kreacher, come here.” He whispered authoritatively into the quiet room.

There was silence, followed by a loud crack that caused several of his roommates to stir in their beds from what he could hear through his bed curtains. Regulus swore and cast a hasty Muffliato immediately after. He hoped that his roommates had slept through the sound, not really caring if it bothered them, but caring a great deal about any of them opening his bed curtains and bothering him.

Standing now atop the comforter at the foot of the bed was an older house elf, wizened and thin as a bone, wearing a faded but tidy pillowcase as his clothing. White hairs sprouted at random out of his large ears, and his nose was large even for elf standards.

“You called for Kreacher at this hour? What is wrong, little Master?” the elf sounded distressed, and his croaking, frog-like voice only made him sound more worried. “Are you unwell?”

Regulus shook his head, smiling softly at the elf. “Hullo Kreacher. No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep tonight and I missed you.”

Kreacher’s already-watery eyes filled with tears. “Little Master, you are far too kind. Kreacher is proud that his service is good enough that you would still call for him to serve you away from home. You did not call for Kreacher all of last year and Kreacher was worried that little Master had started to out-grow him. What can Kreacher do to serve his most noble and honorable master tonight?”

“Oh, come on Kree!” Regulus scoffed, using his old baby name for the elf. “As if I would ever out-grow you. Last school year I was just…trying to take care of myself a little more, not rely on you so much. That’s all.”

“Master Regulus can always rely on Kreacher. Kreacher’s purpose in life is to serve the Noble House of Black and to serve the true son who did not betray his purest blood.”

“I know that Kree, but I don’t want you to have to do everything for me.”

The elf still looked a little put out at the idea of _not_ doing everything for Regulus, but eventually he nodded. “Whatever little Master says, Kreacher will respect, as is Kreacher’s duty.”

“Thank you. Now would you stop being so formal? Mum’s not around so you don’t have to worry about being punished. It’s just you and me, just like when I was small. Come here and give me a hug, then sit and tell me how everything is at home.” He opened his arms to Kreacher and waited.

Hesitating just a bit as he looked around the perimeter created by the closed curtains, Kreacher nevertheless obeyed the request, crept forward across the emerald green comforter, and wrapped his spindly arms around his youngest master’s shoulders. Regulus wrapped his arms around the elf in return, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

Kreacher had been Regulus’ caretaker for the vast majority of his life, tending to him as an infant while his parents were busy with his older brother, treating his childhood injuries, and telling him old elves’ tales as he cooked meals for the family while his young ward played with his toys at the kitchen table. While many purebloods treated their elves as objects at best – and slaves at worst – Regulus could not help having pure affection for his, seeing him as family. In many ways, Kreacher was the sort of parental figure Regulus often wished he had. He would never dare be so openly affectionate to Kreacher in front of his parents, for fear that they would call him soft or say that he was not behaving as “befit a trueborn son of House Black” as they often lectured, and take his oldest companion away. But in private, he was free to express his true feelings for the creature without fear.

The elf patted his master on the back soothingly before pulling back and sitting cross-legged in front of him. “Master Orion is still very unwell, Kreacher is sad to say.”

“Still? Well we know it’s not Dragon Pox at least…but even ruling that out, he’s been ill for weeks.” Regulus couldn’t say he really felt an abundance warmth for either of his parents, but as the only remaining male heir he certainly had a vested interest in his father’s health, and he did not necessarily want anything bad to befall either of them despite their lack of closeness.

“Mistress Walburga was most displeased after another representative from the hospital came to call and could not find the source of Master Orion’s ill health. Mistress drove out the useless Healer from the home. It was most impressive, in Kreacher’s opinion.”

Regulus thought of his mother in a rage, wand brandished at an unsuspecting Healer as they fled from the house in terror. She looked an awful lot like Bellatrix when she was angry, and Regulus counted himself grateful he had never been on the receiving end of it, only having seen Sirius being yelled at and even hexed a few times over their youth. The experience was more than enough for him to keep himself firmly on the correct side of his mother’s favor.

“I would probably use a very different word than impressive but at least mum’s still acting normal. And how are you doing, Kreacher? Has the ache in your ears gotten any better?” Regulus reached out and gently stroked one of Kreacher’s large floppy ears, causing the elf to give him a wide, mouth-splitting smile.

“Kreacher’s ears are all better now, thanks to Master Regulus and his kindness. Master is too good, sending Kreacher a potion to help him.”

“That was all my friend’s doing, he’s a potions genius. I told him about your earache and he sent that to me straightaway to give to you. And really, you don’t have to thank me. After everything you’ve done for the family over the years, I should help to take care of you too, shouldn’t I?”

The elf looked scandalized at the very idea. “Nonsense, Kreacher cannot have you taking care of him instead, little Master! It would bring such dishonor, Kreacher could not bear it!”

Regulus reached out and bopped Kreacher lightly on the tip of his large nose. “I don’t think so. You know you’re like family to me. Family is supposed to take care of each other, isn’t it?” While Regulus meant to sound confident about it, he also felt a little unsure himself. His family looked after their status and their fortune, but looked after themselves more than each other.

A yawn from Regulus immediately after drew a tsk-tsk from Kreacher, and the elf pulled back the blankets a bit. “Master needs his rest if he is to be ready for his lessons in the morning.”

“I know I know…” Regulus lay back against his pillows as Kreacher fluffed them, as the elf had done every night for him at home throughout his life. He sighed contentedly as Kreacher dutifully tucked the blanket around him. “Hey Kree? Any chance you could conjure up a little glass of that drink you used to make me when I was small? The sweet milk? I just want a little nip.”

“Give Kreacher just a moment, little Master.”

The elf disappeared with another loud crack, reappearing a few moments later with a goblet that appeared to have come from the Hogwarts kitchens. Regulus still didn’t understand how house elves could apparate to and from the school and within it when humans could not, but he was eternally grateful for it, especially when the scent of what he thought may have been honey and cinnamon filled his nose. He had never really questioned what was in it, but he knew it had milk and a few sweet and spicy things and it had been a source of comfort all his life. He sat up a little, taking the goblet from Kreacher and drinking deeply from it. Despite saying he only wanted a little, Regulus drained the goblet in three gulps, not feeling any regret even after his stomach protested slightly at having consumed it so fast. Kreacher took the goblet back, and patted the pillow for Regulus to lie back down again.

“That really hit the spot, thank you.”

“Master Regulus needs not thank Kreacher, Kreacher is happy to serve him.”

“Thank you anyway.” Regulus playfully stuck his tongue out as he closed his eyes, warmth from both the drink and the familiar presence of his elf allowing him to get comfortable at last. Kreacher’s spindly fingers gently patted the top of his head, and he felt six rather than sixteen; still, the gesture filled Regulus with a surge of affection and appreciation.

“Go on back home and get some rest. I love you, Kreacher.”

Regulus was certain he heard a sniffle before the elf responded “Kreacher loves you too, little Master. Rest well.” There was a final crack like a tree split by lightning, and the hand on his head was gone. And after the most interesting Halloween of his life, Regulus finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for being understanding about my two week break - I am still working my day job from home at this time and it is very stressful so I really appreciate the extra downtime!
> 
> A note regarding Barty's time at Hogwarts: Canonically we are never told what house he was actually in, but I thought his cleverness and resourcefulness displayed during Goblet of Fire really lent itself well to being a Ravenclaw. I admit that I do see him as very much like Tom Riddle in the sense that he is a handsome and respected boy with darkness already twisting its way inside of him. It takes more than a few people by surprise when the truth really comes out a few years later. All that said though, I also think that there are rather enough Slytherin Death Eaters already (including in this story) aren't there? 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading this, and I welcome all feedback / comments! 
> 
> Till next time (in which we backtrack a month and attend the wedding of the Potters),  
> -TR


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: None for this chapter!

* * *

_23 rd September, 1978 – Godric’s Hollow, Cornwall, South West England_

Though it was not her big day, even Petunia was feeling the pre-wedding jitters something fierce as she looked out into the spacious backyard of the cottage that her sister now called home. From the window of the master bedroom where she and the other girls were still getting ready, she could see a few of the guests already being led to their seats by Sirius and Remus.

At her vanity, Lily was fussing with the placement of an old pearl comb in the band of hair that was braided around her hairline, upon which her veil would soon be pinned as well. Alice came over and took the comb from Lily’s hands, swatting them away as the redhead continued to try to place it herself. Petunia chuckled and came to stand behind them and observe.

“You’ve certainly got plenty of space out there. The garden is very charming. The whole place is really. You said the property was in James’ family?”

Lily nodded, drawing an annoyed sound from Alice who was still trying to fiddle with her hair. She gave Alice an apologetic grin before addressing her sister’s question. “Yes, it’s a Potter family property! Well it is now, it belonged to another wizarding family that married into the Potter line several generations ago, but it’s been passed down since. It was sort of a winter home when James was growing up, he’s got fond memories here. And Godric’s Hollow is such a quiet and lovely little town.”

“And it’s a lovely place to raise a family.” Alice not-so-subtly hinted with a suggestive wink.

“Don’t go talkin’ about babies! It’s hard enough to believe she’s gettin’ tied down so soon! We didn’t even get to have a hen do for ya, Lil! Didn’t even get to hire a single stripper...” Marlene mournfully intoned, putting a hand to her forehead and laying dramatically across the foot of Lily’s bed.

Alice looked like she was having unpleasant flashbacks, her cheeks flushed red in a near-instant. “Wasn’t the stripper at mine last year enough for you, Marley!? We nearly killed the poor man!”

“Sure, but he woulda died wearin’ a smile and I was more’n ready to give ‘im mouth to mouth.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to just say yes and shack up with Sirius already? I swear to Merlin you’re a perfect match!” Lily exclaimed, her own cheeks scarlet now as Petunia gave her a wide-eyed and very inquisitive look. Lily shook her head furiously, lips tightly sealed on the matter.

Marlene shrugged. “Oh, Black’s a’right. But it’s no fun if I just give in.” Turning away from her fellow ginger, Marlene looked to Petunia next. “We should pair you off next, Tuney! Loads of good wizards out there, if Muggles ain’t yer fancy anymore.”

Petunia was certain **she** was blushing now too. “I just broke my engagement off not that long ago; it hasn’t been a full year yet!”

“Well…there’s not really a rule against it, to be fair?” Alice offered as she finally pinned the comb in place in Lily’s hair. “You’re a modern woman, you can start seeing people again if you like. You know…Remus is single still. And I don’t think that he’s dated anyone at all really.”

“That’s very true…” Lily thought out loud, mulling it over a bit as she seemed to make a decision. “And if you did date Remus, at least I know he’s someone I can find and threaten quite easily if he ever breaks your heart.” Lily smiled brightly at her sister in the vanity mirror and Petunia knew she was deadly serious about the offer.

Yet as much as she truly had become fond of Remus – and she had spent a good deal of time with him while helping plan and prepare things in the weeks leading up to the wedding - Petunia was not interested in him romantically. She was still in fact reeling from her few-weeks-old private admission of her feelings for Severus, and trying to reconcile that was hard enough. However, since Lily and her friends did not know this, Petunia had no feasible defense against their well-intentioned but highly uncomfortable attempt at match-making and had to take it in stride.

“Let’s not focus on me, it’s your day today.” Petunia found it funny that there was a time when those words never would have crossed her mind, let alone come out of her mouth. But more now than ever, she wanted to help her sister shine. Picking up the veil from the dresser across the room, Petunia carried it over to help Alice pin it down on Lily’s braid and around the pearl comb. She continued to make small talk with her sister in an attempt to quell her steadily increasing nerves.

“I didn’t realize how different wizard weddings were. Feels more like an American one, truthfully, with us all paired off with the boys and the like. Very…new age.”

Lily sighed, trying to hold still as she watched Petunia and Alice’s hands work in the mirror. “That was sort of the idea, yes. A little less traditional, a little more relaxed, sort of blended with parts a magical wedding. I feel like this isn’t really going to be a proper wedding at all if I’m completely honest. There would be a lot more rowdiness if it was. And more people! The guest list is so much smaller than we would have liked, just because of everything going on with the war. It’s just our very closest friends from the core group of the Order, James’ parents, and our mum and dad.”

“Well even with just the core of the Order there’s still going to be a good fifteen people out there!” Alice added brightly. “And everything still looks lovely out in the yard. And you look lovely too.”

“See that’s why yer the sunshine of our little group, Alice.” Marlene put in, finally rising from Lily’s bed and coming to join the other girls at the vanity. “Always lookin' fer the good things.”

Petunia withdrew her hands, the veil in place. “All done. And Alice is right, you look stunning.”

Lily smiled into the mirror, tears already forming in her eyes as she gently plucked up the lace of the veil between her fingertips and pulled it over her face. “Thank you, girls. For everything. The three of you…you’re my best friends and I’m so grateful to have you here for this, especially now.”

“Alright, alright, save any blubbering fer the ceremony before ya ruin yer makeup!” Marlene slung an arm around Petunia and Lily’s shoulders, somehow also managing to Alice by the collar and yanking her in close enough to embrace too. She looked to each of them in turn in the mirror’s reflection as they stood cheek to cheek, and with a grin she addressed them one last time.

“Ladies. Let’s go out there and get ourselves married.”

* * *

Sniffling in her seat and overcome with emotion, Petunia wished ardently that she had not skipped this wedding the first time around. She could only imagine that it had happened much the same way the first time, though of course without her presence, but she would never truly know.

They had come out into the yard as calm, quiet music played from the antique looking radio positioned at the foot of the podium where the Headmaster stood ready to officiate. James was nervously standing to the right of the podium already, facing away and shifting his weight from foot to foot. The three groomsmen approached the bridesmaids, all looking very sharp in their tailored suits, very Muggle in design. Remus flicked his wand and summoned a lush bouquet of flowers for the bride, which Lily nearly dropped due to her sweaty palms. Petunia and Remus shared an amused look over this, getting more and more accustomed to having entire conversations without saying a word.

The guests who were seated stood up to watch Lily as she made her way first down the aisle, slowly and only slightly unsteady on her feet. Marlene took Sirius’ arm and the pair of them followed a few paces behind, with Peter and Alice following after. This gave Petunia plenty of time to see the look of pure love and emotion as James impatiently turned around at last when Lily was nearly to him. He was overcome almost immediately, and he had to rub his furiously watering eyes, knocking his glasses askew on his face. When it was time for them to follow after Alice and Peter, Petunia had to let Remus lead the pair of them down due to the tears blurring her vision now. Remus was kind enough to hand her his handkerchief before she took her seat in the first row of chairs on Lily’s side, and she had made good use of it already as the men took their seats on James’ side.

Despite the slight overcast of the afternoon, it was very pleasant in the backyard, and Petunia took the time to glance around as Dumbledore began the ceremony. It truly was a small group, and she was surprised to see that she recognized almost all of the people gathered here. She knew everyone in the bridal party now. Auror Moody sat beside a man who she knew to be Alice’s husband Frank, who was himself beside two people that Petunia presumed were Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Even the giant of a man seated behind her - who was twice the size of everyone else - was familiar to her. With a twinge of guilt Petunia remembered the man bursting into the hut that her crazed husband had dragged them to when they were trying so hard to keep her nephew from getting his school letter. Sitting beside the giant man were her and Lily’s parents. It was with a very heavy heart that Petunia watched her father quietly cough into his hand. He looked much thinner these days, it pained her to realize.

The burden of knowledge was once again weighing down on her heart. Her father had cancer of the lungs and he did not have much longer to live, just a few more months by her recollection. It had already been too late by the time of her initial return; she remembered her mother tearfully recounting what the doctor had told her and Lily as the man lay dying in the hospital bed: that he must’ve had it for several years, and there was certainly nothing that could be done for him here. Petunia told herself that the doctors likely could not have saved him even in the decade she had left behind, and certainly not with the lower level of medical care back here in 1978. Even though there was not a thing she could do, it did not make it any easier to bear. She could not let on at all about what would happen, she reasoned. It would not do to upset her sister and mother over something they could not change.

Despite assuring herself that her silence was the right choice, and that it was her burden alone to bear, Petunia still felt equal parts guilt and unease. Her father was going to die for the second time in her life. There was nothing that she could do to prevent it in any way, and she knew this very well. It did nothing to quiet the self-doubt that was trying to shame her into telling the family what she knew, or trying to do something – anything – about it. She had not even been present to share in her mother and her sister’s grief the first time, only attending the funeral and getting the details from her mother out of what she felt was filial obligation. She had resented her parents so much, and had held so much bitterness in her heart over not being the favored child. This time, things had been vastly different. She was kinder to her parents, more understanding. Petunia saw that they truly did love her, and had spent so much more time calling them up to chat, or driving back to visit them on weekends. Losing her father had hurt on some small level before. She knew that she was not truly prepared to do it again. She absolutely knew that she was not prepared to weather the storm of grief that was coming for them all.

Petunia didn’t realize just how long she had been brooding for until a loud wolf-whistle from Sirius and the excited murmurs of the other guests pulled her attention back to the bride and groom in front of her. She focused herself back onto the couple just as Dumbledore finished his pronouncement that they were now officially wed. Grinning, James lifted the lace of Lily’s veil from over her face. The veil now behind her, Lily’s fingers laced through James’ wild hair as his hands now cupped either side of her face, and the newly minted Mister and Missus Potter shared a passionate kiss to the cheers of their small but enthusiastic crowd. Her dark thoughts from just a short while ago were banished in the face of their joy, and Petunia was as delighted for them as she was relieved to be out of her somber mood. She believed that Lily and James had a deep and genuine love, and she was happy to have been witness to their union this time around. Yet still, another little tendril of sorrow worked itself into her heart, and Petunia could not deny that a sizable part of her still felt just as hollow as it had watching them back in Diagon Alley, and she still ached for her own love and happiness at the same time.

From their seats on James’ side, the other three Marauders raised wands and caused streamers in red and gold to blast into the sky. The Potters turned to face their guests and raised their joined hands into the air between them as if in victory. Their guests stood to cheer, and now it was Petunia’s time to do her part. She slipped out of the row of chairs and along the side of the row, just as the chairs were quickly magicked into a different configuration by Marlene, with long tables appearing out of seemingly thin air as Sirius pointed his wand at a few large decorative rocks by the rose bushes and changed them instantly. It was probably the fastest transition from wedding to reception she had ever seen, and Petunia wished – not for the first time – that she could have helped in the magical way too. Still, she had done her part in helping with the cooking and the cake, all by scratch with no magic, and she was excited to see it all come together she slipped through the back door into the kitchen.

* * *

Despite the small size of the gathering, it was still a fair while before everything had settled down again. Alice had come back to the kitchen as well, insistent on helping take everything out to serve, and Petunia was quickly grateful for the offer as she watched the heavy serving platters and silver tureens float lazily onto the tables outside. Remus had come in to assist Alice in moving out the five-tiered wedding cake, putting it under a shimmering haze of protection that Petunia learned was called a stasis charm. Finally, with the dinnerware and the drinks set at last, Petunia took her seat beside Remus and looked around at the pleased faces of everyone as they began to happily tuck into their meals.

After everyone was more or less done with their meals, Sirius stood with his champagne glass raised slightly, and clapped a hand on James’ shoulder.

“Ladies. Gents. Those yet undecided. As the best man it falls on me to say words about this git seated beside me. However, since there’s real adults here I won’t say half the words I’d like to say because I’ve got more respect for my elders than you may think.” He began, a roguish grin on his handsome face. Petunia and Remus shared a look and shook their heads, as was their habit now.

“Way back in the tender year of 1971, I met my best mate – my soulmate really – and we met the most beautiful and talented and breathtakingly magical person I’ve ever known –” He looked directly at Lily and smiled, waiting a beat before continuing on to say “-Remus Lupin.” 

Remus groaned, putting his face in his hand as everyone else chuckled. Petunia tried to stifle her own laughter, not wanting to goad Sirius on but already highly amused.

“Also, we met our fourth brother from another bloodline Peter Pettigrew. And then I think we met this young witch with a temper as fiery as her hair. And Jim here knew from the start he was gonna marry this Lily Evans girl. Even though said girl sort of hated him for several years.”

“I didn’t _hate_ him.” Lily objected. “I hated how he behaved. There is a difference!”

Sirius continued like he hadn’t heard her. “Nevertheless! James here persevered, got some sense knocked into him, then turned round and knocked some sense into the rest of us thick Marauders, and somehow got this girl very, very far out of his league to agree to date and eventually marry him!”

Each of the Marauders raised their champagne glasses with a grin as Lily rolled her eyes, smiling despite the four men behaving like children still.

“In all seriousness – and I am the expert on Sirius-ness, being seriously Sirius – I think they are both remarkably lucky to have found one another, and found love. Especially at a time like now. James. You’re my best mate and you know how much you mean to me. Lily, you’re the heart of our circle and we’re all thrilled that you’re a permanent part of it now. Cheers, to the Potters!”

Everyone raised their glasses now to toast the new couple, and Sirius took his seat beside James once more. To Petunia’s eyes, he seemed almost sad as he looked down at his now-empty champagne flute. The look passed a moment later, but still it stuck out to her mind. She did not have the chance to think much else on it, as James stood up and took his bride’s hand, announcing that it was time for cake.

The next while after proceeded as expected, with the couple cutting the cake together, and Mr. and Mrs. Evans taking traditional Muggle photos as they had been doing throughout the ceremony. Dumbledore saw to the distribution of the cake to the guests once it had been cut, and before long the tables had all been moved to the outer edges of the garden as the wireless radio had the volume enhanced, and the music turned a little livelier. Petunia had been worried initially that all the noise would attract unwanted attention in the mostly-magical Hollow, especially with a war still going on. But she had been assured by the Headmaster himself that the garden was protected with a number of enchantments, including spells to stifle sound and keep prying eyes from paying the cottage any mind.

“Petunia?” Remus’ voice took her by surprise as he came up from the side of her. He was using the detached polite tone with her which she knew they were already well past by this point, so she thought that he must have been nervous or up to something.

“Yes, Remus?”

“We um…never really talked much about this part of it but…may I have this dance?”

Petunia saw from the corner of her eye that James and Lily were pressed close, slow dancing together to the sounds of a woman’s smooth, rich voice to a somewhat jazzy tune. She turned back to Remus and saw that he was nervous, whether because it was her or because it was dancing, she did not know. She hoped it was the latter, since she genuinely liked him and didn’t fancy the idea of having to let him down, though she would be easy about it if she had to.

“Absolutely. But Remus why do you look like you’d rather swallow a spider?”

He looked flustered to be caught out. “I’m rubbish at dancing, really. Haven’t done it much.”

The familiarity of the situation brought her back fondly to slowly waltzing around her living room with Severus back in the beginning of the summer. Her soft smile was not really for Remus, giving her a moment of guilt, but he seemed calmed by it and by her lack of teasing regardless. “Oh, don’t worry, I think I’m a decent teacher now. Let’s see if I can’t get you to competency.”

* * *

By the time Petunia sat down in one of the chairs again, it had grown dark outside and the lanterns strung through the garden gave it the look of a fairy-tale glen. Though tired, she was feeling lighter than she had in a very long time. Turned out that Remus just needed some encouragement and a faster tempo, and he was surprisingly good at finding the rhythm when the jazzy tones of Celestina Warbeck were replaced with the pop music sounds of an American Wizarding pop group called The Salem Soul. Despite the boys groaning at Lily’s music choice, they still seemed to know every song and Sirius even lip synced to one of them as he took a turn dancing with Petunia. All eyes were still on Sirius as he and Marlene put on quite a show dancing with one another, all smiles and laughter.

Petunia was startled by a soft contemplative hum beside her. Auror Moody had sat in the chair beside her at some point, and she hadn’t even noticed. Her absent-mindedness of late was troubling and she knew she had to be better than that, especially with her responsibilities to these people here.

“Something the matter, Auror Moody?” she asked politely.

The older man made the contemplative noise again before replying without looking at her. “They make a good couple. Only hope it stays that way. Nothing’s certain, these days.”

She frowned, slightly irritated that he would be so morose at a wedding. “You can’t keep your mind off work to enjoy a party, even? Or are you just not keen on romance? Married to the job and all.”

Moody was silent a moment, still looking at the dancing couples before them. “I’m always working, even when I’m not on duty. One has to remain vigilant to survive. And I wasn’t opposed to romance. Not always.”

“What happened to change your mind?” Petunia inquired. She knew it was rather forward to ask, but his tone implied that something had caused him some pain in the past and she was curious about the gruff man. To hear Remus and Severus both tell it – though they told it very differently – this man was rapidly becoming one of the greatest - if not the greatest - Aurors of all time. He was a consummate professional, an advocate of tough punishment for those who would harm others, and especially those who would side with the Dark Lord. Severus had told her that because of his dogged persistence and his overly cautious nature, the Auror had begun to get the nickname “Mad” Moody.

“I’ve buried two lovers in this war.” He said after another lengthy pause. “One near the beginning before it was considered a war, ten years ago now. The other? Just four years ago.” 

Whatever Petunia had thought the man would say, this was not it. Words failed her in the minutes after, and she tried to put herself into his shoes. She could not imagine his pain.

“I’m…I’m so sorry.” She said softly.

“Thanks.” He grunted, though his gruff tone was a bit softened in her opinion. “It’s a good reminder for this old man, that things like love and loyalty can still exist. It’s what most of us are fighting for. Imagine it’s what you’re fighting for along with us. Your sister, she doesn’t know you’re our agent.”

It was a statement, not a question, and again Petunia had the jarring realization that what she saw as her two very different lives were interwoven. “No. She doesn’t. For necessity, really. I can’t have her worrying over me. And it’s vital that I stay as far out of the picture as possible, to do what I do.”

Moody nodded in agreement. “Smart girl. And your information has been good. Keep up the good work and make sure your informant stays just as vigilant as you are.”

She was flattered by the praise – which was apparently quite rare for him – though Petunia didn’t feel like she was really doing much. It was Severus who did the dangerous task, after all. She felt that she was just a courier, transcribing messages and parsing out details from his re-tellings in person.

“I’ll pass them the message, certainly.”

Satisfied, Moody leaned back and relaxed a little in his chair as he continued to watch the various guests dancing. They settled into silence for a few minutes, but Petunia was still curious about him and his role in things, especially since Dumbledore clearly trusted the man enough to tell him about her mission, albeit with essentially all of the more fantastical elements removed.

“Auror Moody? Can I ask you some things?”

He looked to her at last, glancing her over with eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you said you were essentially looking out for my safety, back at the graduation. You’re the only one the Headmaster told about my position and I would rather know at least a little bit about the stranger I’m expected to put my trust in for protection should the need arise.

He seemed to consider her words before his gaze returned to the dancers. “Go on then.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough to be your father. Probably younger than you think.”

She was annoyed already by his needlessly cryptic answer, but chalked it up to his cautious nature and was undeterred.

“How long have you been an Auror?”

“Over twenty years. Still counting.”

“Have you ever had to kill anyone?”

“We try by rule to never take a life unless we have to.”

“But have you had to?”

He sighed heavily. “Yes.”

She was comforted at least that he was a veteran Auror, and should something arise he would likely keep a level head. If she was going to have more allies in this, he was a good one to have.

“That’s a relief really. If something goes horribly wrong, I want to know that someone with some sense will be covering my sister’s back. And possibly my own. The last thing I want is to be taken out by some incompetent would-be hero blasting me with friendly fire.”

Moody turned to look at her again. “I see the resemblance to Lily, now. You’re certain you haven’t got a drop of magic in you? You’d make a fine inquisitor in the court, going like this.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m quite sure. I’m very, very much a Muggle. I’m alright with that now.”

“Now?” he arched a brow at her.

“I wasn’t, for a long time. One last question?”

“You haven’t stopped yet. May as well ask another.”

For once, it was Petunia’s turn to smile mischievously at someone like the Marauders so often did. “Care to dance with me?”

As expected, her question caught the Auror completely off-guard. She was pleased that it took Moody a full thirty seconds before the shocked expression dropped from his face and was replaced by a calm and dignified look. Then, seeing that she was entirely serious about it, a bark of laughter broke from his throat, and setting his staff to lean against his chair he stood and extended a hand to Petunia.

“Alright, Miss Evans. Well played. I’ll have this dance.”

She chuckled softly as she took his hand, chuckling a bit more as James, wide-eyed as he nudged Sirius, glanced over at her walking towards them hand in hand with Moody. Sirius looked over, and gave her a thumbs up as he grinned at her. Lily stifled a laugh at the odd dance pair as they came to join everyone else. Peter tapped the radio with his wand, raising another glass of champagne towards Petunia as a waltz suddenly came over the wireless. 

“You’re in luck, Auror Moody. The waltz happens to be a specialty of mine.”

Before Petunia could even ask if the man could dance, he had taken her hands and positioned both her and himself perfectly, even gracefully dipping her down low to the ground. A cheer went up from the Marauders as a shocked Petunia was pulled back up and set on her feet in a fluid motion.

“You’re in luck, Miss Evans. Even without one of my natural legs, I’m still an excellent dancer.”

As soon as her shock wore off, Petunia laughed, and noted with delight that even Moody had cracked a smile at last. He picked up her hand, and with a nod he began to lead as she happily followed.

* * *

It was well past midnight when the party finally wound down. Slowly, the guests began to make their goodbyes and depart. Sirius had offered to fly someone home if they liked, having finally added a sidecar to his beloved motorbike. When Marlene had not so subtly asked if Sirius was escorting her to his home or not a few minutes later, it took Sirius a long moment before he realized that Marlene had said _his_ home and not her own home. He looked to Remus of all people for what seemed like permission. Petunia remembered that the two men shared a flat together, which explained why Sirius would feel the need to ask first. What Sirius got in return from Remus was an incredulous look and a slow nod that to Petunia’s opinion said “What are you asking me for? Go!”. In seeming gratitude for granting this silent permission, Sirius exuberantly kissed Remus on the cheek and stroked back his messy brown hair before offering Marlene his arm and escorting her to his bike.

“About time.” Remus tsk-ed, waving as he watched his friend go. He turned to Petunia. She realized a little uncomfortably that they were alone now, the others saying longer goodbyes still on the other side of the garden. “Petunia I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She wasn’t sure she liked how that sounded, and was bracing herself to have to give him an awkward “It’s not you it’s me” type conversation. She debated if she should put it out there now or wait. Remus made the decision for her as he continued on.

“Are Lily and James trying to push you to date me? Because they’re really pushing me to try to date you. And you’re a very nice person and I do enjoy being friends with you now but…to be entirely honest with you and I mean absolutely no disrespect: you’re not my type. And quite frankly I don’t think I’m your type either. Not nearly tall or dark or broody enough.” He winked at her. 

Relief flooded through her and she let out the breath she had been holding. She felt more than a bit foolish for being what she realized now was rather full of herself in thinking that Remus was starting to develop romantic feelings for her. “Yes! The girls were pushing that just this morning in Lily’s bedroom when we were getting ready! I feel a little silly admitting it but I was afraid you were going to have feelings for me and I didn’t want to…you know. I do like you quite well, but not in that way.”

“So. If tall, dark, and broody really is your type how long have you been seeing him, then?” Remus asked nonchalantly, in the faux polite voice as he feigned innocence.

“Seeing who? I’m not seeing anyone.” Petunia knew exactly who Remus was talking about, but had been trying to avoid thinking of Severus today as much as humanly possible. She hadn’t told anyone about her feelings for him – not that she could – and the last person who should have that information in her opinion was someone who didn’t like Severus in the first place. Still, Remus was someone she considered a friend now, and he had stopped badmouthing Sev after she called him out on his behavior, so perhaps the remorse he had shown regarding his inactivity at school was genuine after all.

“Our mutual…acquaintance. That we saw back in the Alley.” Remus lowered his voice even further as he looked at her though none of the others were near enough to hear. He slipped back to his normal voice, dropping the overly polite one to show his sincerity. “Forgive me if I’m off-base, but the way you defended him and browbeat me that day, and the way your face looked when you talked about him, it made it seem that you were in more than just contact with him.”

Petunia shifted her weight from one foot to the next, unsure of what she should or should not say. She had trusted him thus far, and since Lily had not yet shown up at her door sternly demanding answers, she could only assume he had kept his word, and truly kept her contact with Severus a secret. By the same token, she had wished just that same day that she had someone she could confide her feelings to. While she could not tell him anything about the majority of her secrets, Petunia wanted to believe that she could at least tell Remus about this one.

“Alright, alright, I admit it. I…care for him. A great deal. But he hasn’t got any idea of that and we’re not seeing one another. At all. But keep your mouth shut about it, would you?”

Remus held up his hands in a gesture of acceptance. “Yes ma’am. Just like your first secret, this one is safe with me. If it makes you feel any better…I’m no stranger to unspoken romantic agreements myself. As you just saw a few minutes ago.”

Eyes wide, Petunia looked up at Remus with a hand on his arm. “Really? With _Sirius_?” Remus nodded in confirmation. “Is that why I’m not your type, then?”

He laughed. “No, it’s not quite what you think! Well…perhaps it is. I’m plenty interested in women. He’s just…the one I lean the other way for. He’s well aware of it. Like I said, we have an unspoken agreement. It’s not got a definition. It just…is.”

“So when he looked to you for permission…?”

“Asking if I was alright with it. With him and Marlene having a go at each other in the first place, not so much if I minded staying away from our flat tonight. We’ve been pushing those two to just shag the tension out of their system for ages. But really, I like Marlene and she can keep him on his toes.”

She absolutely had more questions now, but Petunia had already been overly forward with one person that night and did not want to press Remus as well. “We should meet up for a chat one of these days. I’ve got loads of other questions now but none of them are really appropriate.”

“You have met my friends, right? Do you think I know the meaning of appropriate?”

“Fair enough.” Petunia chuckled. “Alright just one question then. What _is_ your type?”

“Loud and obnoxiously outgoing brunettes, apparently.” The pair of them shared a laugh at that, as Lily and James made their way over to them, sharing a pleased look. Petunia and Remus shared a look of their own, knowing what the young Potters must have been thinking.

“Moony, Tunes – oh I like the sound of that, it’s just like those Muggle moving pictures you showed us, Lil!” James exclaimed, a tiny bit tipsy it seemed, as he nudged his wife excitedly.

“Yes darling.” Lily patted his shoulder before coming to take her sister’s hands. “Thank you so much, Tuney. For everything. The food was delicious, and the cake was wonderful. I’m so happy you were here.” Petunia was happy she was here too, but did not trust herself to do more than nod for fear of becoming overly emotional about it, considering the circumstances of her presence. Lily squeezed her sister’s hands before continuing. “Moody’s escorting mum and dad home, and Dumbledore’s seeing Euphemia and Fleamont back. Did you want to stay the night and we can take you home later today?” 

“Oh no, Lily it’s your wedding night – morning now I suppose? I couldn’t impose on that of all things!” Nor did she want to, for fear of overhearing things she truly didn’t want to overhear.

“I’ll see Petunia home, Lily. Don’t fret over it.” Remus offered, causing Lily to beam and James to wink at them both. Petunia and Remus purposely avoided looking at one another for fear of dissolving into a fit of laughter at their hapless sister and friend’s obvious matchmaking in action yet again.

“Well alright then! You be sure my sister-in-law is safe and sound or Lily’s gonna kill you.” James tossed an arm around Remus, muttering something to him that Petunia could not hear. Whatever it was, Remus went red in the face and elbowed James in the ribs, which drew laughter from them.

Lily shook her head and stepped closer to embrace her elder sister. “Love you, Tuney. We’ll meet up soon, just the two of us. When things calm down a little. We’ve been sort of busy lately.”

From Severus’ reports of more and more clashes between the Order and the lesser Death Eaters, Petunia knew intimately well just how busy they had been. She kept the worry from her face for now as best she could as she and Lily stepped apart. “I love you too, Lils. Just be careful, alright?”

The Evans sisters blew one another a kiss and waved goodbye as Remus led Petunia to the end of the drive, and eventually offered his arm for her to grab onto. Petunia had been on a side-along apparition a few times with her sister now, and while she didn’t care overmuch for it, it was far better than traveling by portkey. She nodded to him to show she was ready, and Remus began to count to three. Petunia looked back to her sister and brother-in-law and saw their smiling faces once more, before the world rippled and dissolved before her eyes, and a sound much like the roaring clap of thunder echoed into the void around her.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the Potters are the Potters at last! I'm so sorry this took so long. I've struggled more with this chapter than any of the others before it I fear...But we're finally getting closer to 1979, which is one year closer to the year I really want to write about the most so I'm very excited for that!
> 
> ALSO! I commissioned a fantastic artist friend ReyofSunlight from the Snurch discord, who drew Petunia teaching Severus how to dance from back in Chapter 9! I highly recommend commissioning Rey if you can! You can see the finished piece on their Tumblr [here](https://reyofdawn.tumblr.com/post/617510740525514755/commission-for-bombasticnerdtastic-tumblr-wont).
> 
> Thank you so much as always for reading and sticking with my little story. I really appreciate you taking the time! I love and welcome all comments and/or feedback. 
> 
> Til next time (in which it's Christmas time again, and Regulus is finding love in all the wrong places),  
> -TR


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: None really, aside from some derogatory language and general Death Eater racism. Still, please be cautious!

* * *

_20 th December, 1978 – Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, South West England_

For several years up until his brother was disowned, Regulus had hated the Christmas holidays nearly entirely. Aside from Kreacher’s cooking and getting lavished with presents, he hated being stuck at home and dragged from one formal Black family event to another. As the main line of the family, they were expected to put in an appearance at many of the branch family gatherings partly as a show of solidarity, and partly as a show of strength and splendor.

Now, sitting by one of the fireplaces in a parlor in Malfoy Manor and sipping a hot toddy, he was starting to be fond of it again. In fact, he thought, this was shaping up to be the best Christmas holiday he’d ever had. Beside him on a plush couch was Barty, Narcissa sitting on a similar couch across from them, deep in conversation with Severus about some higher spellcasting theory or another. Lucius stood at the mantle, watching the youngest boys from the corner of his eye under the pretense of studying the ornate silver clock that rested there. Regulus knew Lucius well enough by now to know how he liked to gather information, and he sensed that Barty realized he was being watched as well. He turned to face Barty, drawing his legs up under him and scooting a little closer.

“How did you enjoy the Yule party earlier, Barty? Met a lot of people. Sorry about Bella, she’s a bit –” Regulus drew short as Narcissa cleared her throat and looked pointedly at him, her lips scrunched together in a look of displeasure before turning back to her conversation with Severus. “Bit of a snob.” He finished, rolling his eyes but heeding his beloved cousin’s wishes. She still loved her sister, after all.

Barty seemed to pick up on Regulus’ disdain, but was more than sharp enough to gloss over it. “I had a good time. I’ve been to formal Yule dinners before but not in as good company as this evening. I’m sure that Madame Lestrange was just being cautious. I’m a stranger really. Can’t fault her for that.”

Lucius turned to look more directly at the students now, and to Regulus’ eyes he seemed pleased. Regulus was glad for that; he wanted his family to like Barty for reasons he was starting to admit to himself were not entirely related to the Dark Lord’s cause. In the past month and a half, the pair had become quite close, spending time together quite frequently in the library or out on the grounds in the early evening. As it turned out, Barty had a true Ravenclaw thirst for knowledge, and for learning as much of the dark arts as he could, and Regulus was all too eager to teach whatever he wanted to know, within reason. It had been more than Barty’s desire to meet the Malfoy family that compelled Regulus to write and ask to bring him as his guest to the family Yule party; he was falling for the other boy, faster and harder than he had fallen for any other erstwhile tryst partner he had had over the years. And he hadn’t even done anything with Barty aside from walking arm in arm with the blonde, much to his own confusion.

“You’ll have to excuse my sister-in-law.” Lucius drawled, ignoring his wife’s narrowed eyes. “Bella is very uniquely devoted to our Lord and she is…protective, you could say. She sees it as her personal duty to examine those who would wish to serve Him most closely. Those outside of the ring of the inner circle, she could care less about. But any who wish to do His bidding directly she is wary of.”

Finally, the subject was broached, as Regulus knew it would be. It was after the parties and the semi-public meetings where the real work was done. Just like when Severus was put through his paces for the first time the previous spring, so Barty would be too. And Barty had more to prove even as a pureblood than Sev had as a half-blood, with his father being who he was. Regulus tried to still the flutter of nerves in his chest. He couldn’t help him with this part, and he had to bite his lower lip and wait and just hope that Barty could navigate the impending verbal test well enough on his own.

Barty sat up attentively as Lucius came to sit in his armchair centered before the fireplace, between the two couches that lined either side. Even the positioning of the seating was designed to draw attention to the master of the house, and Regulus wondered if it was similar in the Crouch household as well. He would have to ask about that later, if he remembered.

“From everything Regulus has told me over the past few weeks, you are very eager to meet our Lord. I know of your father, and he is very far from an ally to us. One may even go so far as to call him a direct enemy to the goals of Lord Voldemort. What would make you want to side otherwise?”

The Ravenclaw tensed at the mention of his father. Regulus put a hand on Barty’s thigh to comfort him, and was pleasantly surprised when Barty’s hand came to rest of his own.

“I have never been close to my father. I’ve always thought he was too selfish and focused on his own image and his own goals. He’s my father in name only.”

Lucius hmm-ed, tilting his head and flicking his eyes from the boys’ hands back to Barty’s face. “So, is this a little teen-aged rebellion then? Get back at your father by joining up with the group he is trying and failing to destroy? Or perhaps you want to work your way inside and have this deluded idea of yourself as a little hero, upstaging your father by doing his job better than him?”

Barty shook his head vehemently, and Regulus recognized the fire starting to burn in his dark brown eyes. He wanted to prove himself, and Regulus could relate.

“This is nothing of the sort. This is a matter of pride in my blood, and my father having none. He thinks he’s so powerful, thinks he’s already the next Minister for Magic. He’s practically writing his victory speech already. But what has he done to truly become powerful? What has he done to truly improve the lives of purebloods who have had to live in secret for generations?”

It was Severus who spoke next, leaning forward with steepled fingers. He made eye contact with Barty and fixed him under a very intense look. “So, what do you hope to achieve? Do you seek power? Prestige? A way to get back at your father for neglecting you?”

Barty met Severus’ gaze calmly, though Regulus felt a tremble run through him. “All of the above. I want to prove to him that power is what really matters, and that we should be using our power to make things better for wizards. We don’t need muggles tainting our blood lines and diluting our magic. We need to take charge and re-establish ourselves. I know my history; I study it closely. There’s no reason why Wizards should have to live in hiding like this. There is so much more that we could do, so much more we could learn. If I can show my miserable father how weak and how wrong he really is along the way, then all the better.”

Silence took the room, and Lucius looked to Severus. Regulus looked back and forth from his cousin-in-law to his friend, trying to read their body language to see what they were thinking.

“It would seem then perhaps that we have much in common.” Severus eventually stated, sitting back against the couch once more. Lucius nodded and leaned back in his chair.

“Maybe we can set you to proving yourself sooner than we thought.” Lucius spoke once more, resting his chin on his hand. “Regulus has kept us informed of the things you’ve been discussing and learning together in your free time. Would you like to put this to use in a more practical way?”

Both Regulus and Barty perked up at this, leaning forward at the same time.

“Yes. More than anything.” Barty earnestly replied.

Looking pleased, Lucius nodded again. “Very well. There is to be a showing of power in just a few hours by some of our lesser-ranked supporters. They could do to have a bit of representation from the inner circle. Severus, are you familiar with the port town of Falmouth? It’s a filthy Muggle tourist location, but there is a modestly large Wizard population that resides there as well. They could do to be reminded of their true place in the world, and of their complicity in allowing the weak to lead.”

“I have never been, but I am aware of it.” Severus shifted on the couch, and Regulus noted a look of discomfort on his face. He chalked it up to disdain for the idea of being around so many Muggles at once, knowing how much his friend despised his own Muggle heritage and hometown.

“Good. I would ask that you escort these two as a chaperone since they are both underage. But I believe this would be a perfect chance for the young Crouch here to cut his teeth, and for you and Regulus to demonstrate how a member of our Lord’s inner circle asserts their superiority.”

What Lucius did not say but Regulus and Severus both knew very well was that this was also a chance for Severus to observe and report back to Lucius what he saw, and that Regulus’ reputation was as much on the line as Barty’s. Since Regulus was the one who recommended Barty so highly to join their cause, whatever the blonde did would reflect on him and his judgement. It was crucial to both of them that this evening go well. Regulus looked at Barty, and Barty simply smiled at him. He squeezed Regulus’ hand that still lay on his thigh, and Regulus felt his heart skip. Severus cleared his throat and arched a brow, and Regulus could not help the giddy little grin he flashed at his friend. He withdrew his hand from under Barty’s, and stood up with a notable bounce in his step.

“We’ll need to give him something to wear. And something to cover his face with, since he hasn’t got a death mask of his own. May we borrow a set of your robes, Luci?” Regulus asked as calmly as possible, though he wanted to bounce on his feet right now in excitement.

“Of course, Regulus. Narcissa my darling, would you be willing to help them find something suitable for this occasion? I believe we must have something useful lying around somewhere.”

Narcissa smiled pleasantly to her husband, inclining her head in agreement. “Come along boys, let’s get you ready.” She winked at her baby cousin, no doubt sharing in his excitement. To his eyes after all, it was very nearly a date. Many a proper pureblood courtship began similarly, with a trusted family member or friend watching the young couple at an outing, in an old and very traditional manner. Regulus had of course written to Narcissa several times to confess his rapidly growing attraction to Barty and she had been giving him steady advice on how to proceed. As he was learning, there was a vast difference in using his charms and his sensuality to quickly obtain favor from a man, and in trying to win over the affection of one with his actual, genuine self. It was a difference he had not stopped to consider in his past “romantic” entanglements, but finding himself on the other end of pursuit for once had forced him to adapt. As much as Regulus did not like feeling like he was not in control, this sensation of falling and the warmth and flutter in his chest each time he and Barty were together was something he was coming to crave. Much as he loathed to admit it, he was going quite out of his head for the boy.

They fell into step together with Severus not far behind, following Narcissa down the hall towards another room of the manor. Regulus’ breath caught in his throat as Barty’s fingers entwined with his own. He glanced askance at Barty, and was met with a soft smile. It was that moment that Regulus finally admitted to himself the truth of the feelings tumbling together inside of him – it was love. From everything he had read of and thought of and heard of it from Cissa, he had to admit to himself that he was falling genuinely, deeply in love with Barty Crouch Junior.

And he could only hope as they walked hand in hand, that maybe – just maybe – there was a chance that Barty felt the same.

* * *

_20 th December, 1978 – High Street, Falmouth, South West England_

It had been a long month, and truthfully Petunia was not in much of a holiday spirit as she and her sister walked along a bustling avenue in the seaside tourist town. The winter evening air was frigid, and the wind was whipping up the waves out in the distance, but the atmosphere was cheerful enough as tourists on holiday walked the street as well, taking in the historic buildings and the unique little shops that ran all along the walking paths, all strung up with Christmas lights and festive decor.

The Evans girls and their mother had spent the past few weeks in mourning over the recent passing of their father in the final week of November. Despite trying to brace herself for it, Petunia was not ready for the wave of grief that had swept over her. It had been immensely difficult to bear, but she and Lily had stayed with their mother for several days and somehow, they had arranged and held the services for him together. They had reached a point now where they carried on with their lives again, but the melancholy lingered and intensified the nearer they came to the Christmas holiday.

It had been their mother’s idea that the sisters should take a day to just go out of town and do nothing but talk and shop. Lily had protested that she had no spirit for traveling very far, and so Petunia had taken to the task of finding a place nearer to the younger Potters’ home that the two of them could go visit. Falmouth had been close enough to Godric’s Hollow to make Lily comfortable, and far enough removed from London to give Petunia the sense that they had gone somewhere entirely new.

Admittedly, part of her enthusiasm to come down here had also come from Severus’ insistence that she shouldn’t after she wrote to him the prior week about the planned day trip. She never had liked being told what to do, and since he had not given her any precise reason why she shouldn’t other than it was near a few Death Eater homes, she had dismissed his warning as over-protectiveness. It was silly to think that she should avoid a place just because some blood-purists lived nearby; she lived in Central London for goodness sake she reasoned, and there were any number of strange and even unsavory people for every decent person that lived there too. And Petunia knew from Severus’ own admission that the Death Eaters tended to operate in quiet, not prone to large attacks for fear of discovery and unmasking. Being in the middle of a mostly-Muggle community this far out from the center of the Wizarding world and with a highly talented and intelligent witch beside her, Petunia felt at ease as much as she could be while in the depths of her lingering sorrow.

“Look, Tuney – honest to goodness carolers. I think. That one’s got a guitar and I don’t think Jingle Bells quite goes like that.” Lily finally laughed for the first time that entire day as she pointed out the group to her sister. Petunia was amused by the strange bunch of people around their age, clearly in a merry mood and perhaps even a little tipsy as they passed.

“No, I don’t think it does either. I don’t recall an electric guitar solo in the middle.” Petunia put an arm around Lily’s shoulder as they drew to a stop. “Are you hungry, Lil? I see a café just down the path, we can stop in and grab a bite.”

Lily shook her head no, and covered her sister’s hand on her shoulder with her own. “I’m alright, really. …I’ve worried you these past few weeks, haven’t I?”

“A little bit. But only because I’m not used to seeing you sad. It’s not like anyone can blame you Lily, our father just…passed.” She still struggled to say “died”, even now. It sounded so final to her, whereas saying he had passed made it seem like he was still somewhere near. Not for the first time, Petunia wondered about what happened after. Her own experience had been so limited and she did not know what the Dumbledore from her original time had done to alter things. She did not know if she had truly been in limbo, or if there was some magic to the place she had been. Petunia only hoped that whatever had become of her father’s soul, he was at peace and without pain.

The redhead gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “It’s just…it’s so difficult. Thinking that one day it could just be over. And not by any fault of your own. I’ve been thinking about that so much these days. We’ve had…more losses, recently. In our community.”

Petunia swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She knew only at a distance that more lives had been lost recently on both sides, casualties of the blood war that was growing more tense by the day. And while it saddened her to know, they were still mostly numbers to her. She had not known any of them personally, and while loss of life was tragic to her, it did not weigh on her as it weighed on Lily. Petunia was not sure if she should feel guilt for her lack of connection or not.

“Come now, Lil. Try not to fret over it now. It’s nearly Christmas. We’re on holiday. I…I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, dealing with all of this day after day. But just for tonight, let’s just try to be happy for a little while. I think dad would want that, he always hated when we were sad.”

Lily smiled again, brushing a few wayward tears from the corners of her eyes. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry to be so glum. Let’s go see about that café after all.”

Nodding, Petunia looped her arm with her sister’s as was their habit, and led them to the small café with a rather impressive model train display in one of its windows. Small golden bells attached to red ribbons adorned the door and tinkled lightly when they entered. The girls took a look around at the cheery patrons of the café, and shared a smile. It was hard to be morose in a place like this, as Christmas music played over the sound of quiet voices and tinsel sparkled in the lights of the tree in the corner.

They ordered a hot cocoa each, and took a table in the corner. Petunia wondered how many nights just like this she had missed the chance to have over the years prior. She hadn’t kept any of her friends from school, and she had been married and off in her own little world so fast that she never really took the time to explore the charming little places like this for herself.

“This is nice.” Lily eventually said through a little mustache of whipped cream. Petunia laughed, before taking a sip of her cocoa and putting one on her own mouth. Soon they were both laughing, the somber mood lifted at last over the small gesture of silliness.

“It is nice.” Petunia agreed, licking the whipped cream from her mouth before wiping her face in a napkin. “Say do you remember that dream we had when we were small, about opening a tea shop?”

It had been in the back of her mind since she sat in between life and death with Dumbledore in the facsimile of her ideal of what the shop would like. She had wondered if Lily even remembered coming up with it when they were little girls. She supposed it was the atmosphere of the café and her already pensive state that made her finally ask. She needn’t have worried after all – Lily’s green eyes widened and the soft expression on her face was proof enough.

“How could I forget the Petal Parlor? We talked about it every night for a good while. We had planned everything, from the menu to the décor. I remember we argued for an entire week before bed every night about whether we wanted burgundy or maroon leather chairs.”

“Burgundy. We finally settled on burgundy with gold accents and cherry-stained wood.” Petunia recalled the parlor from the in-between place, as she tried to push away the circumstances of her visit.

“And we had a whole line of floral teas planned even. As our house specialties.” Lily paused, fidgeting in her chair. There was a moment of quiet, till finally she set her mug down and blurted out “Do you ever…I dunno, think about maybe doing it still one day? I know you’re quite content in Bloomsbury but I never really stopped dreaming about it.”

Petunia hadn’t either – not even in her original time. She would never had confessed it then, but more than once her mind had wandered as she tidied the house, or tended the garden in the back, and she thought about the quiet little life she had imagined for herself as a businesswoman with her sister. Bashfully, she met her sister’s eyes.

“Truthfully Lil, neither have I. Maybe after you and your Order don’t have to work so hard any longer, we could sit down and revisit it, see if it would work?”

“I’d like that very much. You know with James’ inheritance I don’t really need to make wages but I just know I won’t be content as a housewife. Not to insult anyone who chooses it! I mean mum did and she was happy with it for a long time. But personally? I just want more than that for myself. I worked so hard in school to earn good marks and…” Lily turned her mug around a few times in her hands, frowning into it as though the swirls of chocolate had given her an answer she didn’t like. “It’s so frustrating that I can’t really do much right now. With everything going on and the stigma certain groups have against people like me, it wouldn’t be safe for me or my job in some places if I did work. And even if it were safer for me to work publicly, there’s still a chance I’d have to drop everything for Order work at a moment’s notice and I can’t think of any employer who would be alright with that.”

Petunia hadn’t realized just how difficult it was for Lily to be idle like this. She herself had been all too pleased by Vernon’s earnings and the life of domesticity it had afforded her. While she still felt no shame in having been a homemaker, she had grown to love the freedom of choice her own employment had given her. With as talented and clever as Lily was, Petunia could only imagine how frustrating it was to have to put her dreams aside for the good of everyone but herself.

“I’m sorry you have to put your dreams on hold for this. It isn’t right.”

“It isn’t. But at least I have my health and my husband, and you and mum. And by and large, our friends are alright too. That’s all I can really ask for right now.”

The sisters finished their drinks in comfortable silence, and re-situated their scarves as they emerged from the cozy calm of the café. As they stepped onto the street however, the atmosphere had shifted, and instead of merry leisure, the streets had taken on an aura of slowly rising chaos. People were no longer walking slowly up and down the promenade. In fact, several were running down the street and there was the sound of panicked shouts coming from further away.

With growing concern, Lily and Petunia looked in the direction that people were running from, and saw flashes of multi-colored lights throwing shadows against several of the seaside holiday homes set into the upper part of the shoreline. What appeared to be a rubbish bin shot up into the air in a flash of glowing red light, causing a loud clatter that echoed even over the wind. The contents of the bin were tossed to the wind as well, bottles and papers and bags fluttering and falling out of sight behind the buildings. More people emerged from some of the other homes and shops nearby, and began to run from the unseen source of the chaos.

“Those are spell flashes. I’m sure of it.” Lily sounded as grim as she looked as she set her jaw, Petunia watching her intently all the while. “Petunia stay here.”

“What?!” Petunia snapped, grabbing her sister by the shoulder. Dread was rising up fast in her, and with a sickening lurch of her stomach she realized why Severus must really have been warning her against this location. Immediately behind the nausea came burning-hot anger – why had he not just openly told her that there was to be a show of force here, instead of just telling her that Death Eaters resided in the area? She didn’t question his loyalty, and didn’t doubt that he had a reason for phrasing it the way he had. But she was doubting his common sense as much as her own right now.

Urgently, Lily turned to face Petunia and took her by the arms. “If it’s them, I can’t just do nothing! Innocent people could be in danger.”

“Yes, including YOU!” Petunia felt like her control of the situation was spiraling rapidly out of her hands. They were alone. She had no magic, and who knew how many people could be there, if it really was Death Eaters further up the shore? “Can’t we contact someone first? Like an Auror? Or the Order?”

Lily pulled Petunia into a narrow space between the café and the art shop next to it, and pulled her wand from the inside of her coat. “We can do both at once. Be my lookout, would you?” she asked as she muttered something. Half-dazed by how rapidly things had just changed, Petunia nonetheless watched the entrance to their little space, but a sudden silvery-blue glow pulled her gaze back over her shoulder. A glowing, ethereal doe stood in front of Lily now, blinking up at its summoner.

“Take this message to Moody, swift as you can.” Lily muttered to it. “Attack on Falmouth, send reinforcements. Going to go try to help.” She flicked her wand, and the doe bounded off down the other end of their space in a trail of light.

“Now what are you going to do?” Petunia asked quietly, though she feared she already knew the answer.

“I already told you, I’ve got to do something. You stay here. Stay safe. If something happens to me just find a way to get out of here, they do awful things to Muggle women in particular.”

“How the hell will I know if something happens to you? I’ll be down here!” Petunia yelled, wanting to stamp her foot in frustration. Lily was as stubborn and immovable as a stone wall when she had her mind set to something, and Petunia knew that very well.

“You’ll know. Just…” The sounds of screams grew louder, more insistent. “I’ve got to go.”

“Lily WAIT-!” Petunia called to no avail as her sister rushed past her and back onto the street. She took a breath, fists clenched at her sides, and tried to count to five. She got to three before she put her head back and half-yelled, half-growled in anger. All of her effort over the past year to keep Lily safe was going to be for nothing at this rate. She wondered fleetingly if marrying James had knocked some of Lily’s sense out of her head, but dismissed the thought with a wry smile – Lily had a strong sense of right and wrong, and a desire to help. It would have been admirable if it wasn’t damn near suicidal.

Stepping out of the narrow space, Petunia looked ahead in the direction that Lily had taken off and after a moment of searching she saw a flash of her sister’s auburn hair bouncing on the wind. She was the one who brought Lily here in the first place, and she was the one who had been too thick to read between the lines despite Severus telling her not to come. The guilt spurred her body into motion before her brain had even decided to follow, and she took off down the street after Lily.

It was several long minutes before Petunia was able to catch up to her sister; despite her youth in this timeline – she was soon to be twenty-one years old in January - she was not very athletic and was severely winded by the time she reached Lily, who had ducked behind a house.

“Lily Jane Evans!” Petunia hissed, huffing to catch her breath as she too crept behind it.

“Potter now.” Lily remarked with a notable airy defiance.

“Don’t be smart! You knew I was following you several minutes ago!” Petunia took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of the house. “And don’t give me that bloody face you knew damn well I wasn’t going to stay put! Since when do I like to do what I’m told?”

Lily crossed her arms, wand still in her hand. “This is dangerous!”

Petunia crossed her arms as well. “All the more reason for you to not be here alone! I’m not leaving you and you can’t make me.”

They stared at one another, faces similarly screwed up in irritation till an unfamiliar and distinctly male chuckle brought their attention to the other side of the rear of the house.

“Look what we have here! Couple o’ Muggle birds.” The hooded and masked figure was brandishing a wand menacingly as four other figures joined him.

Petunia took a half step back as Lily brandished her own wand. If the redhead was nervous, she did not show it now. Taking heart from Lily’s confidence, Petunia put on a brave face as well and gave the small group of five her most faithful imitation of Severus’ default disdainful expression.

“I’m a witch and you had better get out of here before my reinforcements show up.” Lily called out. They weren’t far apart, just one end of the house to the other. Petunia wondered how fast they would be able to run away, if a spell would catch her in the back like a gunshot in an old cowboy film.

“Oh, let’s make a game of it, I love when they try to fight first.” Came the gleeful exclamation from another of them, young from the unrestrained eagerness of his voice and the visible slightness of his shoulders even under the flow of his robes.

One member of the hooded group still stood relatively motionless, masked face focused intensely on the two girls, wand loosely held at their side. Even if she hadn’t known him on sight by his posture and just general familiarity with his presence, Severus had sat with her one evening at the kitchen table and shown her his Death Eater mask. While the lower level of the Dark Lord’s followers all wore similar, nondescript bone-white masks with slotted eyes and tooth-like cutouts over their mouths, the inner circle masks were often unique, reflecting the personality of the wearer. She had memorized Severus’ mask down to the most minute detail, a precaution they had agreed was necessary should she ever need to identify him in his Death Eater attire for any reason. Neither of them had thought at the time that it was ever likely to happen, as she did not spend time in magical areas other than Diagon Alley or Godric’s Hollow with her sister. As it stood now, Petunia wasn’t sure if she should be glad for it since there was nothing that Severus could do to help them without exposing himself as her ally to his peers, or exposing himself as a Death Eater to Lily. From the tensing of his entire body, she knew Severus was thinking it too.

A rubbish bin beside them gave Petunia an idea. Remembering the bin from earlier that had gone flying, she picked up the round lid while the attention was still focused mostly on Lily, and suddenly flung it like a Frisbee at the group of Death Eaters as hard as she could. It hadn’t gone far when it started to dip down, but it had caught their attention as intended. In a manner of seconds since Petunia’s attempted distraction, Lily extended her arm and pointed her wand directly at the lid, shouting out “ENGORGIO!” and causing it to swell to what must have easily been seven or eight times its original size. The redhead flicked her wand again, and the now giant-sized metal disc picked up speed again and continued on towards the would-be attackers. Two of the Death Eaters stood stock-still and stared, either too slow or too slow-witted to get out of the way, and the pair of them both went down with a comical-sounding thwack and thud as the enlarged lid caught them both in the chest. Still guided by Lily’s control, the over-sized lid covered the two hulking and winded figures and came to a rest at last. The other three had gone in different directions as soon as the chaos unfolded, and were still on their feet and recovering quickly it seemed. Petunia scarcely had time to be grateful that Severus was still among the standing when Lily grabbed her hand and pulled her backwards.

“Come on, we’ve got to get out into the open!” Lily breathlessly urged, turning to run while still holding Petunia’s hand. A flash of red light erupted behind them, and it burst against a small brick wall nearby, causing the bricks that took that bolt to shatter into rubble. The spell had gone wide over Petunia’s shoulder, and she wondered as they ran if Sev had been the one to cast it. She wanted to ask him when they inevitably had to talk about this, if they both survived the night. They emerged back in the open pathway of the lane, and Lily turned briefly to point her wand over her and Petunia’s shoulders at their pursuers, making what seemed like a stabbing gesture. They ran towards the end of the lane, and Petunia caught the scent of burning cloth just as the same Death Eater who had wanted to make a game out of fighting them earlier yelled out “YOU MUGGLE-LOVING BITCH!” followed by “Aguamenti!”.

“Deeper into the town or back towards the beach?” Lily asked in a rush, looking both ways.

Petunia wasn’t sure why Lily was asking her opinion, but she looked both ways too and noticed more of the same flashing lights from earlier near the other homes, and a decent amount of people still moving the other direction to get closer to the shoreline from where they themselves had started.

“Back towards the beach where we should have been from the bloody beginning, perhaps?” she snipped, more than a little irritated with her sister and the situation overall.

Lily at least had the decency to look a little ashamed now that her initial adrenaline rush was fading and her attempt at heroics had turned into a spectacular failure, but she was still clearly annoyed at her elder sister for poking at her over it. “Oh, just stow it, Petunia! Now come on!” Still holding hands, they took off as fast as they could run towards the beachfront streets.

* * *

Severus had lost count of the number of times he had thought to himself that Petunia Evans would be the death of him in one context or another. This evening was the first time he had thought as such quite so literally.

He had been on edge well before the Malfoy Yule party, ever since Petunia wrote to tell him she and Lily were going to take a day trip away to shake their melancholy. He of course knew of the planned demonstration of strength in Falmouth because its mostly Muggle-born magical population was notably pro-Muggle and very anti-Voldemort, but he had to strike a fine balance with what he revealed to the Order through Petunia. If he gave too much, the Dark Lord would become suspicious of a traitor in their midst. If he gave too little, he ran the risk of putting Order members in danger. He didn’t care about any of them save for his former best friend, but he knew Petunia was fond of several of them now and he presumed that Dumbledore would be highly upset with him if he let anyone die that he could save. And so, he had not been fully honest with Petunia in his letter back, simply telling her to avoid it due to the near proximity of some Death Eater family homes in the hidden magical community in the seaside town. That much had been true – and in fact two of those low-ranked Death Eater residents, Michaelson and Crawford, were both with himself, Regulus, and Crouch Junior at present.

But he and the two students were not even supposed to be here. This event was a trifle, something frivolous and not worth the time of Inner Circle members. If he didn’t still consider Lucius Malfoy a friend of some kind on some level, he could have wrung his pale neck for sending him out here to chaperone the two obviously lovesick teenagers.

They had Apparated – Severus taking the two boys on a side-along, being the only one who had taken and passed the test yet – and arrived in the middle of the magical side of town set further up the shore. In the hour and half since then, he’d had no choice but to watch their twisted little date unfold. They had met up with Michaelson at the unsavory pub that he ran, and the large brutish looking man nearly fell all over himself at having two Inner Circle members desiring to join his little display for the night. He introduced the trio to his neighbor and best friend Crawford, and the odd quintet had begun to quietly terrorize the unfortunate witches and wizards who happened to be about town by themselves. Severus watched with growing discomfort as Regulus and Crouch worked together in sickeningly perfect tandem, quietly discussing what methods to use on their hapless victims, casting some rather tricky hexes and a few Black family specialties that Severus himself did not even know. In another uncomfortable moment, having met up with another group of Death Eaters as they branched into the Muggle part of the town, Severus watched Regulus correct Crouch’s wandwork and educate him in the finer points of casting the Cruciatus curse. While he could not see their faces due to their masks, Severus could practically feel the pleasure and pride radiating off of both boys as Crouch cast it flawlessly. Regulus’ delighted laughter was audible even over the agonized screams of the hapless Wizard they had cornered behind a book shop.

Now they were nearly to the beachfront after working leisurely through the residential community, and he was irritably waiting for it all to be over when Michaelson’s chuckle from behind the house they were standing beside drew his attention sharply back to focus.

“Look what we have here! Couple o’ Muggle birds.” Michaelson had said. Severus felt his stomach lurch, though he told himself he was being ridiculous. Petunia was probably miles and miles away with her sister, she had no reason to be behind a random house in a tourist town, especially when he told her explicitly that she shouldn’t come to it. He was the last one to make his way behind the house, following after Crawford and his two young charges. And before he had the chance to make them out properly, he heard Lily’s voice.

“I’m a witch and you had better get out of here before my reinforcements show up.”

Had he more fully believed in the concept of a soul and an afterlife, Severus knew his would have leapt from his body and ascended in that exact moment. Sure enough, there stood Lily Evans – Potter now, he corrected himself with no small amount of disgust – and Petunia a half step behind and beside her. He went rigid, staring down at Petunia as though in a tunnel. She recognized him, he knew as her eyes lingered over his masked face for a fraction longer than it had over the others’ – and she had better, considering they went line by line and curve by curve over every inch of his Death Mask at her kitchen table for that exact purpose.

“Oh, let’s make a game of it, I love when they try to fight first.” Regulus had gleefully exclaimed. Mild torture was all fun and games to him still. Severus knew very well that the teen still had no idea that the war had progressed far beyond subjugation of the weak and into the realm of elimination of the enemy. He had not yet been exposed to the depths of the depravity of the Dark Lord as Severus already had been. He wondered sadly if his young friend would still be so eager to follow Voldemort so devoutly if he were ordered to cast the killing curse instead of simply inflicting pain and misery.

Protectiveness and worry for the state of Regulus’ soul aside, Severus found himself trapped as well. He could not do anything to help Petunia for fear of exposing himself as a traitor to the Death Eaters with him, and he could not say a word out loud lest he expose himself to Lily as a Death Eater. Petunia was very likely thinking the same thing, judging from the pinched look on her face.

He was caught just as unawares by Petunia’s sudden flinging of a rubbish bin lid as Lily was it seemed; the redhead’s eyes grew comically large before she quickly recovered her wits and cast a rather strong enlargement spell on the makeshift projectile, turning it into a legitimate threat in a matter of seconds. Michaelson and Crawford were too dumbstruck to move as Lily managed to lock onto it just enough to guide its course. Severus hissed out “Move!”, and he watched Regulus and Crouch both jump back in different directions. Their escorts were caught in the chest and went down like sacks of flour, then covered with the lid as though they themselves were rubbish for the bin. No big loss in his opinion.

Lily grabbed Petunia, and the two of them took off at a run. He missed whatever Lily said to her sister as they ran, but took point in running after them to obstruct Regulus and Crouch from firing a spell off first. He purposely aimed wide as he wordlessly tossed a mild Cruciatus curse in Petunia’s direction, satisfied as the spell struck a bit of the brick wall to the side of her. Severus was quickly forced to jump aside as Lily pointed her wand over her shoulder and cast what looked like a more controlled, bullet-like variation of Incendio. Coming up fast behind him, Regulus was not so fortunate; the small jet of flame caught on his near his shoulder, and quickly bloomed and started to spread.

“YOU MUGGLE-LOVING BITCH!” he screamed out. Severus was set to cast Aguamenti to put the fire out, but Regulus had it well in hand himself, drenching the flames and stomping his foot in anger while Crouch came up and dried him off with a few quick passes of his wand.

“Are you alright?” Crouch asked, taking Regulus by the shoulders.

Severus rolled his eyes openly, glad for his mask as Regulus nodded and put a hand over Crouch’s. He could not imagine himself and Petunia doing anything this overly saccharine in front of another living being. He chastised himself for losing focus, and for wasting yet more time in foolish thoughts about the woman that would never come to pass. 

He cleared his thoughts and went to grab both teens by the shoulder and pull them back to the still-enlarged rubbish bin lid. He took care to inject the proper amount of venom into his tone before declaring “That witch was a known member of Dumbledore’s little secret club that’s been causing us so much trouble. There’s probably more of them crawling around here like the vermin they are.”

Crouch looked down at the lid that covered the lower Death Eaters and crossed his arms, everything about his stance indicating he was unimpressed. “Presuming this is why they’re lower level and not inner circle? Very clear decline in quality. What do we do with them?”

“Normally I would say leave them for Aurors to sort out but they know who Regulus and I are so we’ll have to help them. Or at the very least, I’ll need to modify their memories, which sounds like the more promising idea.” He flicked his wand and cancelled out the enlargement spell, shrinking the bin lid back down to its original size. Their temporary prison now gone, Michaelson and Crawford sat up groaning. Severus moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, remembering the mask in place too late. With a huff he withdrew his hand and turned to the teens. “Go scout around the edge of the house, make sure no reinforcements are actually coming while I take care of this.”

“Why aren’t we going after the girls?” Crouch asked. Severus did not like the touch of defiance in the brat’s tone, especially when he was not even marked or proven in any way. He felt uncomfortable with his own line of thoughts; he did not like the way that sounded in his own mind, as if the Mark mattered to him. He hated being in this mindset for this long.

“Why do I owe you an explanation? Do as you are told.” Severus ordered, gesturing sharply to them. Regulus did not protest, deferring to his friend’s order and gently tugging Crouch’s arm. The pair walked off cautiously, with wands raised. Severus did not like the backtalk from Crouch, and he made a note to himself to bring it up to Lucius. They did not need another Bellatrix on their hands. Navigating around her fanaticism was difficult enough without adding another deranged devotee. On top of that, he and Petunia needed to have a long and serious conversation about her blatantly flouting his words of warning. He couldn’t keep her safe – and he so desperately wanted to keep her safe, he would admit that much to himself quite easily now - if she went and put herself in danger anyway. With a pang, Severus remembered that Petunia had said nearly the exact same thing months ago, when ranting to him about her sister becoming part of the Order of the Phoenix.

Severus turned on his heel back to the lesser Death Eaters, who had finally taken to their feet. In a way he envied them. They could do just fine with a few less memories – he did not have the luxury of forgetting anything. One disaster at a time, he reminded himself. He raised his wand, and set to work.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this very late at night over three days in a half-panic, so I apologize in advanced if this doesn't quite hit the mark where I wanted. (This chapter was actually supposed to go on for another 2K words or so originally, but I have decided to split it off and add the remainder of it to Chapter 15 instead. Meep.)
> 
> Thank you so, so much as always for reading, and for all your feedback / comments! I truly do appreciate you taking the time and giving this story a chance. 
> 
> Till next time (In which Petunia and Severus have a little "chat"),  
> -TR


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: None this time, a fairly tame chapter.

* * *

_20 th December, 1978 – High Street, Falmouth, South West England_

The run back towards the beachfront seemed to take twice as long as the run away from it had, and neither sister seemed to want to look back to see if they were being followed. When they reached the nearest building on the street, they all but dove behind it for cover, breathing hard and doubled over as they let go of one another’s hands for the first time in minutes.

Now, tucked away in darkness and quiet, Petunia felt her heart beating hard enough to ache, and she pressed a hand to her chest and tried to calm herself. Anxiety knotted up tight in her throat, and all at once her worry for Severus and her awareness of how close to being caught and tortured they were caused her to feel ill. She wondered to herself how in the bloody hell Lily and her friends did this night after night, intentionally seeking out Death Eater activity. It was darkly ironic in her opinion that her wild little sister openly faced death night after night only to die at home while hiding from it.

It had only been a few minutes in the quiet dark before a flash of orange sparks in the sky closer to the water caught their attention, making Petunia jump and stumble into her sister beside her. Rather than increase though, Lily’s tension actually eased, and she shot up an answering burst of sparks from the tip of her own wand. Petunia listened intently as Lily began to explain that they had various color and light signals for when the Order was split up across different areas. She didn’t get very far into the intricacies of the system however before a group of mostly familiar faces converged on their location.

Chiefly among them was Auror Moody, who quickly took control of the situation. He looked very much like a general addressing his soldiers as he turned on the heel of his booted foot, the clawed tips of his artificial leg scraping on the ground like a blade to the whetstone as he pivoted and looked to the members of the group who flanked him and then back to the girls, eyeing them both carefully.

“Potter – how many did you encounter?” he barked in Lily’s direction.

If Lily was upset or nervous by his gruff tone, she did not complain. Petunia was impressed, because she was not even the one being spoken to and _she_ felt intimidated. He reminded her of a stern school principal about to descend into a long lecture, but she imagined he would be far more terrifying. She had not seen the man angry before, but between Severus’ stories of Moody and James and Sirius’ portrayals of him before in stories of their own Petunia just knew it would be a fright to see.

“Five, Sir. We took two down for the count for the night just before we retreated. But the sheer number of spell casts we think we saw from higher up into the town and the number of screams we heard suggest there are far more active out there than that.”

The anger Petunia was expecting from the old Auror never came. Instead, Moody simply nodded, and turned to the others who had come with him. “Prewett – both of you – Black, and Pettigrew – Apparate up there to The Golden Snitch Bar in our peoples’ side of the city, give ‘em some backup and help them hold the town. Lupin, McKinnon, Vance, Podmore - make your way up on foot from here and cover any of the Muggles still running away. Both Longbottoms – you’ll lead the team behind them up to the Muggle residential, stay behind and watch for flanking, but take point if and when the first team has to stop to help Muggles. Post yourselves at the corner of this building for right now and give them a two-minute lead in, your backup will be along in a moment. Both Potters – and Miss Evans – stay put a moment, we need to have a chat.”

The area emptied out as everyone moved swiftly to comply with the Auror’s orders. In no time at all, there were only the four of them remaining. Now, glancing back and forth between her brother-in-law and Auror Moody, Petunia could not tell which of them looked more upset. Beside her, Lily was unperturbed by their stony faces, arms crossed over in defiance. While she couldn’t fault James for being upset that his wife had thrown herself into the fray so readily, she wanted no part of the potential fallout – after all, she had tried to stop Lily to begin with.

“What have I been trying to get through everyone’s heads these days? What have I been saying about going into battle without a partner?” Moody finally asked. He wasn’t yelling but Petunia almost wished he was; his voice was sharper and more brittle than the crack of dry, dead wood split in two.

“Not to do it.” Lily sheepishly admitted. “But people were in danger and–”

“And you could have been killed, Lil, and Petunia too! You know what they do to Muggleborns already so your own situation would have been bad enough, but they would have done so much worse to an actual Muggle!” James exclaimed, stopping Lily’s defense mid-sentence. He had quickly gone from righteously angry to deeply distressed. Despite not wanting to be in this conversation, Petunia was still greatly touched that her brother-in-law had cared enough to be worried for her as well.

“I’m perfectly capable of dueling, James. I didn’t suddenly lose my skill when we married.” Lily’s reply was waspish, indignant even – Petunia watched James’ eyes widen, then narrow again, his face turning petulant in a manner so reminiscent of her nephew in his youth it caused her to step back.

Moody cut back in to their squabble before it could really take off. “No one is saying you’re not a damn fine witch, Potter. I still think you’d be an asset to the Auror department. But you need to use those brains of yours! Next time, you wait for backup and don’t drag your Muggle sister along with you!”

“To Lily’s defense, I dragged myself along. I wasn’t going to let her just go alone.” Petunia put in. She kept her face neutral as both James and Moody turned to look at her. After a long moment of staring at her intently, Moody shook his head and tapped his walking stick on the ground with finality before addressing the three of them again.

“Potter - both of you - go on ahead with the Longbottoms and help secure both the magical and the muggle sides of the town. We’ll likely have to get the entire team of Obliviators out here after all this mess. I’ll escort Miss Evans home and be back to assist shortly.”

Lily opened her mouth, possibly to protest or to offer to take Petunia home instead, but Petunia shook her head and her sister remained silent.

Moody held his arm out to Petunia, which she took with only slight hesitation – she did not want to leave her sister out here to fight, nor did she want to leave Severus out here to be fought. Reminded once again of her own magical inabilities, Petunia felt more than a little helpless, and more than a little frustrated. Despite not having more than a small personal stake in the outcome of the war at large, she was becoming more and more emotionally entangled in it. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Goodnight Lily. Goodnight James.” Petunia lifted her other hand to wave goodbye, and after a moment of silence she felt the familiar pulling sensation of Apparition as the quaint little seaside town dissolved, leaving darkness in its place.

* * *

_20 th December, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

Though she had done it several times now, Petunia did not like magical travel whatsoever. Portkeys were horrendous on her balance and her stomach, and side-along Apparition felt much like a carnival funhouse that turned the lights out on you in a hall of mirrors and then suddenly changed the room when you opened your eyes. Still, she supposed that the more instantaneous nature of Apparition and the ability to put one at their immediate destination made it much preferable.

They arrived at her darkened doorstep, and Moody held her stable a moment until she felt she had her feet properly under her. She unwound her arm from his and fished her keys from her handbag. Moody stood silently as she unlocked it, but put a hand on her arm to stop her from entering first. He pushed open the door himself instead, and took the first step inside with his staff held before him. A flutter of feathers and a screech came from within the living room, as Dusty flapped his wings from his current perch on the back of the couch as if about to take flight and attack the intruder.

“Dusty! Stop that racket, it’s just me!” she chastised the owl, flipping the light switch beside the door as she entered the flat immediately behind Moody. At her appearance, the owl stopped flapping and settled his wings back against his body, looking as sheepish as an owl could look, at least to Petunia’s eyes. He turned his head to investigate Moody, then hopped down onto the couch itself and made himself comfortable on one of the cushions, large eyes still observing curiously.

“Smart bird you got there, Miss Evans.” Moody nodded in approval as he looked from away Dusty and around the room, leaning forward to see into the still-darkened kitchen.

Petunia set her handbag on the couch and leaned down to gently stroke Dusty’s feathered head. “He’s a brilliant creature.” She proudly declared, both to reply to Moody and to praise the owl. She appreciated that Dusty had been poised to protect her home. He was no guard dog, but he had the heart of a dragon in her opinion. Dusty puffed up his feathers at the praise, nuzzling Petunia’s hand. She watched as Moody turned about the room and made a few passes with his wand, which he pulled from within a special groove in his walking staff. Small green waves passed over the front door, the windows, and then the room itself, seeming to gently spread out across the entirety of the flat before vanishing.

“May I ask what you’re casting about my home, Auror Moody?”

“Protective wards, Miss Evans.” Moody replied gruffly without looking at her as he cast another spell in silence, this time causing a crackling blue field of sparkling light to spread over the walls of the flat. “Death Eaters saw your face tonight, and saw you with your sister. Regardless of the intelligence of that lot, that makes you a potential target. These are protective layers of magic that will give you some defense if they do. Anyone will ill intent on you will face a strong consequence for trying to get in and have at you. Anyone who means you no harm will pass through them just fine.”

Petunia hadn’t even known that was a thing that could be placed, like a Wizarding security system of sorts. Still, as much as she liked the idea of having some enchanted defense on her home it also frightened her. It felt like it was bringing a Wizard’s war to her Muggle doorstep and she did not like the way she was being pulled closer and closer into the fray, just like tonight’s excitement had done. “Do you really think it’s likely though, that they could track me and target me all the way out here?”

“What, you think that just because you reside in the middle of a Muggle area you’re safe and clear of our Wizard problems?” Moody turned to look at her at last, his dark eyes hard. Petunia felt for the second time that night like she was a rookie under his command about to be lectured.

Moody stepped closer, gesturing with his arm, wand still in hand. “You live in London, damn near the center of the magical community of Great Britain. Our entire government is a stone’s throw away from you in Whitehall. One of the most racist pureblood families in the country lives twelve minutes away from you in the Borough of Islington at 12 Grimmauld Place. We only know that thanks to Sirius Black – it’s his family that lives there, and he seems fairly convinced that his little brother is either already a bloody Death Eater, or that he will be damn soon.”

Her stomach dropped. Petunia sort of had thought she was far enough removed from the majority of the conflicts, since they had predominantly taken place in the South thus far. It was foolish of her to think that way, she knew. But she had not wanted to let go of the illusion of relative safety she had built up for herself. Still, she had wished too that she could be more involved somehow aside from passing information between Dumbledore and Severus. She supposed she really should be more careful what she wished for, especially knowing that magic existed.

“Truthfully? I suppose that I had thought myself…I don’t know, sheltered in some way. Due to my lack of direct involvement.” She confessed at last with a heavy sigh. Exhaustion was setting in now that the initial panic and excitement was ebbing away.

Moody shook his head. “It’s good that you can admit it. But you’d best get rid of that foolishness now. You must remain vigilant or you’ll get yourself killed. Your Death Eater contact should have set these protections for you ages ago. I’ll have words with Albus about that. Was your contact out there tonight? Why did he not warn you of this upcoming attack?”

Petunia grew defensive at the suspicion in Moody’s tone. She knew he was doing his duty as both an Auror and a member of the Order, but she did not like Severus’ loyalty being called into question. “He sort of did…he just worded it vaguely and downplayed the threat when I told him Lily and I were planning to go to Falmouth and I…” she trailed off, shoulders sagging further and further as Moody’s frown only deepened, his arms crossing over.

“And you didn’t read between the lines and blatantly disregarded it, assuming he was just bossing you about.” He finished. It was not a question, and Petunia merely nodded in agreement. Moody huffed, but rather than yell at her, his voice actually softened.

“Whatever little lover’s spat you may be having with your contact, or whatever reservations you have about taking orders, you need to listen when it comes to matters of your safety. How do you think your contact would have felt if something had happened to you tonight, because you mistook his protectiveness as ordering you about? Do you know how that weighs on a man?”

Petunia was taken aback by the truly haunted look in the Auror’s eyes. A pang of guilt went through her as she remembered their conversation at the wedding, and she recalled that he had lost two lovers to the war at different times. From the look in his eyes and the heaviness of his tone, it seemed that Moody had firsthand experience in what he spoke of. The guilt gave way to sympathy for the old Auror before her, looping back again to guilt. She got the impression that she had made the man revisit things just now that he’d not wanted to think about, and it made her feel so much worse.

The look on Moody’s face passed as he schooled his expression, all business once more. His tone grew firmer, but he was still not angry, only insistent with her. “If the Order lost you tonight, or your sister, or Merlin forbid both of you? That could have had more far-reaching consequences. Who knows if your contact would have stayed loyal, or been lost himself with no intermediary to pass information through? And James Potter is hard enough to keep from doing stupid things sometimes, can you imagine him if he lost his wife?”

She hadn’t thought about that part of it so much yet. Wrapped in her own worries for herself and her sister, and her irritation at Severus, Petunia had not stopped to consider what her or Lily’s death would have done. It would have undone all of her and Severus’ work to keep her sister alive of course, but what would have happened to Severus in all of that? Or to James, or any of his and Lily’s friends? She did not want to consider it much more, as none of the potential outcomes were at all pleasant.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, and she truly was, all around.

“I’m not the one you should be sorry to, but apology accepted all the same. You were lucky tonight. But it’s better to be prepared than to be lucky. Be sure you take more caution in the future. And have a serious conversation with your contact about the state of things, to ensure nothing like this happens again. If anything happens or seems strange, even if a bush seems like the branches moved too quickly, you get inside and send word to me at once. Agreed?”

“Yes, Sir.” She replied with as much confidence as she could muster.

Moody nodded, giving her not quite a smile or a smirk, but something in between. “You’ve got courage, Miss Evans, I give you that. More than some trained wizards twice your age. Use it properly, and see that it doesn’t get you killed. I’ll be in touch.”

Petunia watched the wizard walk out the front door, and saw the locks turn themselves behind him. She turned to her owl, who blinked back at her. “Can I send you out on a little flight off to Sev, Dusty? I’ll need you to bring back a response for me as quick as you can, even if you’ve got to peck him. He probably isn’t home yet, but wait for him till he is.”

The owl stretched its wings and fluttered onto the coffee table, where Petunia did most of her writing and some of her stationary was already out and ready. She snatched up her pen and quickly scribbled out a note to Severus on a small square sheet of lined pastel yellow paper with transparent sunflowers patterned over the background.

_“Sev,_

_I made it home safely. I know we need to have a talk and you’re probably quite cross with me, but I’m worried for you so can you please let me know that you’re alright first? Dusty is waiting for your reply to me. And if you can, let me know what day you can next come over so I know when to expect you._

_-Petunia”_

She folded over the paper and stuffed it into a matching yellow envelope, sealing it with a sunflower sticker and hoping a little foolishly that perhaps the bright stationary would help to offset Severus’ most certainly sour mood and diffuse a bit of his anger. Dusty held out one leg, clicking his talons as a signal that he was ready to take the letter. Petunia placed it into his grip and stroked the owl’s head once more before he took off for the slightly opened kitchen window and squeezed himself out of it and into the night.

Utterly exhausted and now wracked with worry over how Severus had fared with so much of the Order of the Phoenix coming to fight, Petunia knew sleep would not come easy to her this night. Still, she knew there was absolutely nothing she could do now but wait for Dusty’s return and just hope, like she always did, that Severus’ very fickle luck continued to hold out for yet another day.

She all but flung herself down on the couch, knocking her handbag to the floor and staring at it as she tried and failed to muster the energy to retrieve it. She decided to let it lie for the time being and rolled onto her back to stare at the stucco ceiling instead, trying to find shapes in the formless pits and grooves of the material till she drifted off dreamlessly minutes later.

* * *

_24 th December, 1978 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

Exactly one year to the day since Petunia Evans stood on his doorstep in Cokeworth holding a tin of Christmas biscuits, now Severus stood on her doorstep, holding another tin of biscuits that she had pressed upon him. At that time, she had been arriving, whereas he was now leaving – or had been in the process of. She had seen him to the door, he had turned to say a more proper goodbye, and somehow he now stood rooted to the spot on the threshold with her hands on either side of his face after she had leaned forward on the tips of her toes, and had pressed a velvet-soft kiss upon his mouth.

It was as though time had frozen and shattered in upon itself for him, and all of creation had slowed to a thick oozing rather than the even flow of normalcy, the point of the origin of man now defined by their lips where they were joined together. He had just enough cognizance left over to reflect idly on how different his first true kiss had now turned out to be from what he had originally imagined just a few short years ago, before the part of his soon-to-be nineteen-year-old brain that was somehow still functioning began trying desperately to backtrack through the evening and pinpoint what in the nine hells he had done to warrant this exact moment. 

Arriving at her front door earlier that evening, Severus had still been upset. Days before, when he finally brought the boys back to Malfoy Manor and dragged himself home, it was Dusty’s incessant pecking at his hands that had him replying to Petunia’s brief letter immediately with a rather terse reply that he was fine and would see her on Christmas Eve. Severus had then proceeded to spend the next four days at home in such a foul mood even for him that his mother had grabbed him by the collar of his favorite brown jacket on day three and ordered him to go on a long walk and cool his head. The walk along the foul river that ran beside his hometown had not helped; if anything, it had only given him more time to mentally compose the fiery lecture he intended to unleash upon Petunia when he saw her.

And then of all things, Petunia had the audacity to open her door and look pleased to see him when he turned up to her flat. The biting words he had been ready to let loose stopped on the tip of his tongue, and rolled back and died in his throat. Of all the people to be currently upset at, it just had to be the one he had so foolishly fallen in love with, he groused to himself.

“It’s so good to see you under much better circumstances, Sev. Come on in.” She smiled up brightly at him, and he willed his traitorous heart to stop trying to beat its way from within his chest.

He followed her inside, shutting the door behind him and shrugging off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack lest she give him any grief for tossing it on the couch as he would have preferred to do. “We should never have seen one another under the other circumstances, Petunia.” he began sternly, trying to stir up his most intense look of displeasure to match his tone, arms folded over against his ribs. He was still upset and she needed to know how close to death she had truly come that night.

“You’re right, and I know that. I’ve been thinking about that very thing for the past four days, believe me. Have you eaten yet? I wasn’t sure if you had so I made a fair bit extra for dinner just in case. It’s just boring old spaghetti and meatballs, I hope that’s alright.”

Severus had been expecting some sort of indignant rebuttal, or self-righteous anger in response. He had been expecting accusation, or some kind of quick-tempered retort from her. It was what he was used to, even with Lily, whenever some kind of conflict arose. He was expecting a fight; it was just his nature by now to always be braced for one. But being told that he was right and then offered food on top was the equivalent of a sucker punch. Petunia was winning already and she wasn’t even fighting.

Still, he shook himself from his little daze, recovering quickly and picking up the topic once again. “Do you even realize the extent of the danger you were in?”

A little of her tartness came through on her face now as she turned to him from where she was currently in the kitchen dishing dinner. The smell of the fresh tomato sauce wafting over made his stomach gurgle in anticipation – Petunia was a fantastic cook; he knew that well by now.

“No Sev, I thought it was all great fun. I especially liked the part where a piece of brick wall exploded right beside me and I had to run for my life.” she replied, sarcasm dripping off her every word. Petunia very nearly flung a spoonful of sauce on top of the little bed of noodles she’d spun onto a large plate, splattering a bit of it against her pastel blue apron. The sarcasm dropped off, replaced by indignance as she carried on. “OF COURSE I know how much danger I was in, do you think I’m completely nutters? It wasn’t my idea to go traipsing off to play the hero I just brought myself along!”

“You shouldn’t have been in Falmouth to begin with, I told you not to go!” he came into the kitchen, against his better judgement from the way she was still holding her ladle tightly in her fist.

Petunia arched her brow at him and set the plate on the table with a resounding thud. This was looking more like the fight he was waiting for; he knew it had to come eventually, as it always did. Severus set his shoulders, but again was put out of sorts as Petunia instead inhaled deeply and let it out in a soft huff, her anger seeming to fade away again.

“What you actually said was that Death Eaters lived nearby. You never said they were going to be throwing their version of a little street party. I should have read between the lines a little clearer and…alright I’ll admit that being told what to do made me want to do it. I thought you were just being overprotective and I put myself and Lily in danger. That’s my own fault and I’m sorry. But you still could have been a little clearer about it. Why were you so vague about it anyway?”

She gestured him to the chair across the table, fixing her own plate and setting it down. Severus sat down in his usual seat as Dusty fluttered by and snatched a piece of garlic toast in his talons, then swooped up to his preferred perch atop the refrigerator to devour his prize. Still thrown off by her apology, it took Severus a moment to reply to her.

“I have to be careful to not give too much. I was concerned that if I told you and you told Dumbledore, if the Order just happened to be there to counter them right away…the Order can’t know everything or it will look suspect. I’m walking a very fine line, Petunia.”

She set a glass of cola in front of him and finally, Petunia hung her apron on the hook near the pantry door and sat across from him. “So why did you not just tell me “Petunia, don’t pass this information along, but…” - and so on. I would have just kept it out of my next report to Dumbledore.”

It seemed so simple and obvious when she said it. And Severus felt overwhelmingly stupid for the thought not even crossing his mind. Half of him wanted to admit that he hadn’t even thought of that, but instead his pride urged him to counter “Would you have though?” He immediately wished he hadn’t asked it. The hurt on her face broke his heart and he had flashbacks to the hurt on Lily’s face after he called her that awful name. For the life of him he had no idea why he was apparently determined to sabotage every aspect of his relationships with the Evans sisters.

“If you asked me to keep something, I would. Do you not trust me, after the year we’ve had?”

The instinct in him was to spit out something defensive, to say that he trusted no one. But that was the persona of Severus Prince that he had been crafting so carefully, not just this past year, but the past several years. The Severus Prince that he really wanted to be snatched his haughty persona by the arm and shoved it away, stepping to the fore as he did something rare and humbled himself.

“You may well be the only person I _do_ trust, Petunia. And you’re one of the only three friends I have. I didn’t mean to insult you by making it seem otherwise. I apologize.”

He wondered if she knew what those two words cost him on the rare occasions that he had said them. Petunia’s frown turned itself over into a small but sincere smile, and he felt it had been worth it.

“I forgive you. I suppose we both were a bit thick about things…I’m just grateful we’re both alright. What happened to the others who were with you? Did the Order get them?”

Severus had to remind himself of the mouthful of pasta he currently had, to avoid smirking at the thought of the two idiots Michaelson and Crawford that got themselves arrested after he altered their memories, as he had watched from a safe distance. “Two of them were underage – one of them was my friend Regulus, the poor deluded thing…they left safely with me. The imbecile who first found you and his unimportant cohort both were arrested by Auror Longbottom, who single-handedly took them both down with an admittedly impressive wordless disarming spell and leg-locking curse combo.”

Petunia wiped at her own mouth, hmm-ing with satisfaction. “Serves them right! I’ve met Frank a few times and he seems like a very kind man but he’s a big fellow and takes his work seriously and I know I would rather not go against a man like that if I had magic.”

“Oh no, not Frank. The _other_ Auror Longbottom – his wife, Alice. She is his partner within the Investigative Auror Division after all. They’re equally formidable opponents.”

Petunia broke into laughter at the thought of sweet, peaceful little Alice taking down the two hulking brutes who had been humiliated by another woman just a short time before. “I forgot entirely that she’s an Auror too. They’re only a year older than you. Which reminds me of something… I thought it took quite some time to become an Auror, so how are they both already fully instated? I thought it would be rude to ask them, like I was doubting their skill or something of that nature.”

“To my understanding it typically takes three years of training and probationary period. But with the increase in Death Eater activity and the unrest growing within the last two years especially, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement accelerated their training program to allow top candidates to graduate in half the time. Frank was near the top of his graduating class, and the Longbottoms are an old pureblood family. They almost certainly wanted him as a poster boy.” Severus rolled his eyes, but he had no real grudge against Frank Longbottom. His disdain instead came from the reminder that he too had been near the top of his own graduating class, but a career with the ministry was never even discussed as an option for him. Even his potions professor – who had claimed that Severus was the best student he had ever instructed in the art, and had never given him less than top marks – had seemingly little faith in his post-Hogwarts chances at success. 

She must have sensed his shift in mood and understood the gist of it, because Petunia patted the top of his free hand in a placating manner. “You can’t be the best at everything all the time. You’re already on your way to being the youngest and brightest Potion Master and Apothecary in Britain. Save some glory for the rest of the wizarding world, why don’t you?”

Though half teasing, her words actually did bring him some comfort. It was flattering to hear, even if she was not fully part of the Wizarding community. That anyone had such high regard for his skill was nice; that it was Petunia who did was all the sweeter.

“I could brew glory, you know. It’s a variant of Felix Felicis, which is-”

“The Liquid Luck potion. Very advanced, with a brew time of six months.” Petunia cut in, a twinkle in her pale blue eyes that almost reminded him of the Headmaster.

Severus knew his mouth must have been agape, and Petunia’s cheeks tinged pink under his intense gaze of disbelief as she busied herself with more of the pasta on her plate, swirling it around her fork and dabbing it into a little pocket of tomato sauce.

“Yes. I’m genuinely impressed. How did you know that?” He could not recall having told her about it, but he had rambled on about potion making so much that it was possible he had once.

Petunia shyly met his eyes again, looking pleased with herself and embarrassed at the same time. “Ah. Well…one of the chapters of You Too Can Brew talked about famous potions. That was one of them. The book went on to say how toxic it was in high quantities, too.”

“When did you get your hands on a copy of You Too Can Brew? And why?”

She shifted in her seat, and Severus could not identify the softness in her expression.

“Lily bought it for me in Diagon Alley, at the bookshop. I told her I was interested in it. Which is true, I am interested in it. I obviously couldn’t tell her I was interested in it because of you. But I wanted to learn more about your passion.”

He was touched. If he hadn’t already had strong feelings for her, this would have tipped him over that edge towards it. “That’s actually quite sweet of you. I’m more than willing to teach you about the art, if you would like. Merlin knows you’ve heard me go on and on about it enough.”

“I would like that very much, actually. There’s…a bit more to my purchase actually. But I’ll save that for after dinner. In the meantime; tell me about how your apprenticeship is going, I’ve not heard you talk much about life at Mr. Mulpepper’s lately. Is he still overcharging customers for their plant-based ingredients or did you sort that out? And I imagine you were busy right up to the holiday closure.”

As they settled into their meals and he began to tell her about work, Severus felt a very rare calm wash over him. Petunia listened intently to him, commenting here and there, asking questions. What a remarkable difference a year made, he thought to himself just as Petunia began to tell him all the latest office gossip from Grunnings. Soon, the conversation flowed naturally and freely between them as it had done in their near-constant letters back and forth the back half of his seventh year, drifting from topic to topic, breaking into spirited little debates about current British politics and Wizarding affairs, drifting back into shared memories of their mill-town youth in Cokeworth and stories of their separate lives that the other had not known. When they had finally finished their meals, Severus set to helping her store away the leftover food and washing the dishes by hand, as she dried them and set them in their proper cupboards. Much to Severus’ subdued but still quite obvious delight, Petunia had also baked and decorated a few dozen Christmas biscuits again this year from her mum’s recipe, and as they sat together on the couch eating them, he felt that they were as delicious now as they were then; he had been craving them since he ate the last of his carefully rationed tin from her last January, and had secretly hoped that she would be so kind as to gift another round of them to him once more.

The pleasure of this blissfully mundane domesticity was such that he could almost imagine that this was their shared flat, that they were having dinner together like they did on any other night, and that they would spend time idly chatting together before going to sleep side by side in their bed. He felt his lips twist into a rueful smirk as he examined the steam rising from his fresh cup of Darjeeling tea, a new brand of which Petunia had recently acquired and insisted he try with his biscuits. If only his past self could see this now; sitting at the table together as he was fawning over her like an idiot under a double dosing of Amortentia. Severus Snape would never have allowed himself to be so ridiculously saccharine and lovelorn. He was finding more and more that as Severus Prince, he did not have quite the same hesitation, at least in private. It was almost painful to think about things that he felt just could not come to pass. But at the same time, the more he was in Petunia’s company, and the closer that they became, there was a little bubble of hope that was just daring to exist in him. The smallest, quietest part of him had started to look past his spy work and the war raging and wonder if just maybe there was a future beyond this, and if there was by some miracle the slightest chance that she held some romantic feeling for him in return, and not just familial affection as he so deeply feared.

It was not until Petunia was stifling a yawn with the back of her hand beside him that Severus paid any attention to the clock hanging in the kitchen. Somehow, it had turned to quarter past midnight. He hadn’t felt the hours slipping away from them, and it tore at him to have to let the night end. He had never been overly fond of Christmas, as it meant more time at home with his parents and a bitter reminder of everything that they did not have. But from this evening alone, it may well have been the best holiday season he’d ever had.

Following his gaze to the clock, Petunia stood up and stretched her arms over her head, yawning once more. “Goodness I’ve kept you so late! I’d hate to have your mum worried about you.”

“She’s more used to me coming and going now. She may be starting to think I’m finally socializing. Either that or she’s making rather…interesting assumptions about the nature of my relationship to the Malfoys, since I spend so much time with them.”

Petunia laughed, shaking her head at him. “Well they are quite good looking from what you’ve told me. Don’t think I could fault you if you did want to engage them.”

“Lucius’ rather open sexuality aside, I believe they see me more as their intelligent half-blood pet than their equal or their friend. I think there is some goodness in them, but they are very limited by their narrow-minded beliefs. Still…they have been far kinder to me than many in their station would have been. You know if not for being a Muggle, I think you and Narcissa would actually get on quite well. She also enjoys hosting company and planning parties and she adores flowers, fashion, and gossip.”

“I try not to gossip so much anymore. But you’re spot on with the rest. Before you get ready to leave, let me package up some of the biscuits for you, and fetch your Christmas present from my room.”

Severus watched her slip past him to the kitchen, pulling down another round tin and silently thanking whatever spirits may have been for answering his wish for more to take home. He went to pull his coat off the rack and back on, and his mind caught up to him a moment after as he realized she had mentioned a Christmas present for him. Relief swept over him as he lay a hand over the little brown paper and twine wrapped package in his inner coat pocket. He had a gift for her as well, but he was unsure at how it would have been received and so had been waiting till the end of his visit to figure how to broach the subject. If she had a gift for him as well, then him reciprocating was the natural friendly thing to do. He and Lily had continued to exchange gifts with one another up till the fight that ended their friendship. Still, this particular gift was on the sentimental side, and if he accidentally outed the romantic tilt of his feelings for her he was deeply afraid she would rebuff him, and he did not know how he would be able to carry on with his duties to the Order – to her, really – if that finally happened.

Petunia had pressed the biscuit tin into his hands and gone down the short hall into her bedroom, emerging a few minutes later with a small bundle wrapped in silver paper, a green bow atop it. “Well. It’s technically Christmas now. Would you like to open it? I’ll hold it while you do, since there’s something fragile in the middle of it.” She held it up with a soft smile and a slight shuffle of her foot that reminded him of his own old nervous habit.

“If I may, then yes, I’d love to.” He tucked the biscuit tin under his arm and delicately plucked the green bow off the top of his gift and held it between his long fingers with a smirk. “I appreciate your aesthetic choice in the use of Slytherin colors.”

“Well you all go on and on about your school houses, and no one seems to realize that they don’t have to color code themselves that way after graduating. So I thought that you would like it.”

He could not disagree with that. As he carefully pulled apart the paper, a woolen alternating color-blocked scarf of rich emerald green and a strong steel grey revealed itself. It looked quite thick and quite warm, and he appreciated it greatly. The brewing room in the basement of the Apothecary was always cold, and he had thought of buying a new scarf a few times since winter began. Nestled in the middle of the bundled scarf was a teardrop shaped potion bottle of medium size, full of a shimmering turquoise blue liquid with a faint silver vapor wisping about in the empty air at the top just below the cork stopper. His name was written elegantly on an attached tag made of parchment, in tidy script.

“Is that…Draught of Peace?”

She seemed pleased when he identified it on sight. “Yes. I thought that perhaps since you have such a stressful role to play, and since you have some of the same anxiety problems that I had – have – that perhaps this could help. I read that only a very small dose is needed so I thought this would last you a little while. Not that I don’t think you can handle it on your own of course. But that’s what medicine is for really, to help when your normal coping methods can’t quite cut it on their own. That’s how my doctor had explained it to me anyway, back in my old life.”

“Petunia did you brew this yourself?” He asked in wonder. Not only was it a rather advanced potion – or at least, advanced enough that it was a standard potion on the O.W.L. exams – the ingredients were not all cheap either.

“I had considerable help from Remus but yes, for the most part I did.”

He had almost managed to make himself forget that she was friends now with the bloody werewolf, and worse yet that the werewolf knew that Petunia had contact and some sort of friendship with Severus. “And you’re certain he didn’t attempt to poison me with this?”

She rolled her eyes, but still spoke with sincerity and passion. “As if I would let him. Remus isn’t as bad as Sirius and James and Peter. And I would never let them near anything I intended to give to you, regardless of the fact that they have zero idea I even know who you are. They’ve got a lot of growing up to do still and one of these days if the conversation permits it, I’m going to really let them have it for what they did to you in school. You can count on that.”

Warm as her words made him, what affected Severus most of all was that not only did Petunia care enough to worry about his struggles with his anxiety, but that she had brewed it herself. It looked like it had been done properly – though of course he would still test it before using any – but the knowledge that non-magical Petunia had gathered and used expensive ingredients and created a viable potion just for him had done things to his heart that he didn’t know were possible. He took up the scarf and wrapped it around his throat, carefully knotting it to ensure it stayed in place on his trip home, then carefully gathered up the bottle to tuck it into his pocket. Petunia didn’t question him when he folded up the wrapping paper and tucked it and the bow away as well.

“Thank you, Petunia. I sincerely appreciate this far more than you know.”

“I’m just pleased you like them.” she laid a hand on his arm and squeezed it, then reached past him to open the door. “Get home safe please!”

He nodded, trying to will himself to finally take the leap and tell her of his own gift. He took two steps, ended up in the doorway, and made himself turn around finally. “Before I go I…have a gift for you as well.” It was her turn to be caught off guard by his words, and she blinked up at him a few times as he withdrew the small package, no larger than the palm of his hand, and held it out to her.

“Sev you didn’t have to do that. You’re so sweet sometimes.” Her fingers danced along the twine, and she looked up to him again. He nodded, urging her to open it. As much as he feared it, he did want to see her reaction as well. She pulled the twine loose and carefully opened the brown paper, and froze entirely when her eyes fell upon the silver charm bracelet within. It was very simple, with only one charm attached, a small but finely detailed little horse; it had been her favorite animal as a child.

“Oh my god this looks just like the one I had as a girl. I remember the day I lost it…it was awful. Do you remember that? Well I mean of course you did, or I wouldn’t be holding this replica in my hands! We’d all been at the hilltop park again and we had been fighting. I probably started it, knowing me, and then sometime later I realized it was missing. Like the clasp had come loose or something. I looked for it for two hours. Oh, I cried so hard when I had to let it go…”

“It’s not a replica. I’m fairly positive that this _is_ the one you had as a girl.” Severus confessed, feeling the old guilt all over again. He knew exactly why it had gone missing – he had used his rudimentary control of his growing magical powers to unclasp it while Petunia was on the swings. Presumably it went flying off somewhere into the thick grass, never to be seen again. “I was out walking the other day back home, and I ended up at the park and-” and he had been thinking of her of course but couldn’t well say so right now – “I remembered that incident and thought that it had probably washed away in the rain years ago but it was worth a try to summon it. So I walked around the park casting summoning spells for it till lo and behold it zipped into my hand, covered in dirt and a little bit of snow, but otherwise no real worse for wear. I cleaned and restored it and…here it is.”

Silence filled the space between them as Petunia clutched the bracelet tightly in her hands, the paper and twine dropping to the floor. “Sev…you’ve made my Christmas. Thank you so much.”

Relieved that nothing unpleasant had come of his risky choice in gift, Severus let go of the breath he was holding in the form of a little pleased hum. “I’m happy it pleased you. Goodnight, Petunia.” Taking the biscuit tin back into his hands, he turned to go and took a step outside before realizing he hadn’t wished her a proper Happy Christmas.

He turned back around to do so, and caught the look on her face as she clutched at her slender left wrist, now adorned with her old bracelet once more for the first time in nearly ten years – in his time, anyway. He realized suddenly that for her, it had been over three decades since she last saw it. Petunia was still staring at him, with something akin to desperation in her expression. She looked like she had something she was urgently trying to say. He furrowed his brow and was about to ask what was wrong, and that was the moment that her hands had suddenly brushed his hair away from his face, and settled against his cheeks. With a surprising intensity, she pulled him down a little closer, got up on the tips of her toes, and without uttering a word Petunia had kissed him.

Severus did not know how many years of life were yet ahead for him. He did not know what the next orders from Lord Voldemort would bring, or when he may end up discovered for the traitor to the Dark Lord’s cause that he truly was. There were many variables, and his working relationship with and subsequent feelings for Petunia were both a liability as much as an asset to his spying. But he did know without the slightest doubt in his mind that if he were to die tomorrow, this would be the happiest memory of his entire short life. A million questions sprang to life in him in the time their lips were joined, but he let them all rush around his head in an incoherent fuzz, like static over the radio from a poorly positioned antenna. None of it mattered, and there was time enough to question and think and over-think and wonder what this kiss actually amounted to, if anything at all.

Petunia touched a hand to her mouth, a little breathless and flushed and looking as though she had come from within the pages of some sordid and predictable romance novel. She seemed shocked at what she had done, but still met his gaze with heat in her eyes and said simply “Happy Christmas, Sev.”

“H-Happy Christmas, Petunia.” He wanted to smack himself on the forehead for stammering when he very much wanted that to sound more refined and mature than it had. She raised her hand and gave a tiny wave goodbye before closing her door with a gentle and rather final sounding click.

He stood there on the doorstep for a long moment after she was gone, holding the biscuit tin tightly in his shaking hands. It had begun to snow lightly, but he knew the cold had nothing to do with the tremble running through the rest of him now. Willing his legs to move and still out of sorts, he didn’t dare try to Apparate home right now as the fuzzy thoughts now came to him loud and clear. He made his way down the quiet block and into the almost entirely empty main London streets, feeling more alive than he ever had before. He reflected on his thought earlier in the evening, that this may be the best holiday of his life. _Yes,_ he decided officially, _this is without question the best Christmas of my life._ He revisited the kiss, replaying it again and again in his mind and wishing he had a pensieve or a memory vial to put this memory into while it was still perfect and new. But no, he told himself – this was a memory he would hold in his heart instead. No matter what may come to pass later, for at least today Severus Prince had the first truly happy Christmas of his life.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so our main pairing has finally shared a kiss! It only took....over 83K words. 
> 
> I'm so, so very sorry this took nearly two weeks to put out. My heart has been very heavy with everything going on in the world and I really didn't have much in the way of spare energy for writing. As it is, the next chapter will already be hard enough (since I am in the cursed middle ground between major plot points so erm...well, I'll figure something out) so please forgive me if the next chapter takes a bit of time to get up as well. 
> 
> I thank you all so much for reading. I appreciate the time that so many of you have taken to comment. Please know that it really makes my day and I appreciate you all so much. Please stay safe out there, and don't let anyone silence your voice.
> 
> Til next time (In which we finally get to see things from Alastor Moody's eyes),  
> -TR


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Mild mention of previous sexual activity, but nothing overly explicit. (Please note that both characters are of-age at 17 years in the context of the Wizarding community, but this has still been kept as un-explicit as possible so as to not alarm anyone. Still, please be cautious if you are sensitive to this sort of material.)

* * *

_9 th March, 1979 – Montrose, Angus, Northeast Scotland_

They were losing the war.

In Alastor Moody’s opinion, they had _been_ losing the war from the beginning. They’d had evidence of the brewing storm of trouble more than a decade before, but the Ministry had been so unorganized and weak, torn apart within and without from years of public unrest and internal bribery and corruption that all the early signs and the collected evidence had done them no good. The Head Auror had seen several Ministers rise and fall throughout his twenty-three-year career, some to personal controversy like the Dementor-loving Ignatius Tuft, and some to the strain of the job like weak-willed Eugenia Jenkins. He had supported and liked Knobby Leech when he became the first ever Muggle-born Minister for Magic back in 1962, only to watch the man step down six short years later, having survived a mysterious near-deadly illness. To this very day, Alastor was almost positive that miserable bastard Abraxus Malfoy had been responsible for making the whole thing happen. But of course, the formal investigation had not turned up any concrete proof of the Malfoy patriarch’s guilt – or anyone’s guilt for that matter. The Auror department back then was still half mired in corruption of its own, full of all sorts of bastards with combat authorization for their wands. It had improved in more recent times, increasingly more so under his leadership of the Auror division for the past ten years.

There was still no shortage of people within the ranks of the various departments of the Ministry of Magic that were there for the wrong reasons. Be it power, or personal glory, or the desire to persecute others through outdated ideals of blood purity or status, the Ministry was full of simple-minded fools. In the past, it was far too often that anyone who truly cared about making a difference or making a push for magical equality found themselves in a dead-end position with no real power, or twisted instead by the deep corruption that took root in them like a slow leaking poison spilling into the community well. In the earlier years of his career, far more often than he liked to admit, Alastor had found himself questioning why he bothered to try. He was blunt and gruff and did not form the intra-office bonds and alliances that would have given him an easier go of it. He came from a long line of Aurors who were proud to serve Great Britain’s magical community, and that had been in large part why he had enlisted in Auror training immediately after his graduation from Hogwarts. Once he was within it however, and could see firsthand the state of things, he was disenchanted.

Yet still, he always returned to the cold fact that while he had been a child when Grindelwald waged war within the Wizarding world, he had not been so young that he did not remember it, and the pain and destruction that it left in its wake. And the thought of ensuring nothing like that reign of terror could happen again, and ensuring that he would be part of the solution and never part of the problem would brace him over and over again throughout the years, as he continued to speak out and refuse to by play the rules of an old and sickening game of self-interest and twisted politics. It was not without great personal heartache and heavy loss, but his steadfast nature and dedication to his personal path had finally led him to an untarnished and distinguished service record and to the position of Head Auror, second only to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement himself.

And despite that dedication, and the effort to weed out corruption from within his department, and their commitment, here they stood in the middle of a long and increasingly deadly conflict with an anti-Muggle blood fanatic yet again. Each Order meeting brought word of more destruction and chaos, and there was only so much that the relatively small group could do in the absence of more direct support from the Ministry. Alastor had been personally asked at the onset of the conflict by his childhood hero and former professor Albus Dumbledore to join his resistance group, and he had given his wholehearted commitment without hesitation. A handful of people Alastor knew personally had already fallen to this fight. Two that he had loved were among them. The darkness in the world around them was growing increasingly harder to penetrate as time moved on, the measure of the depths of conflict growing in gallons of spilt blood and broken families and ruined potential.

The only bright spot – and even Alastor, the eternal pessimist that he was, had to admit there was a single bright spot – was that the younger generation of witches and wizards coming out of Hogwarts in recent years under Dumbledore’s tenure as Headmaster were some of the best and brightest he’d ever seen, both in magical ability and in strength of spirt. And above all, they were not afraid to fight for what they believed was right; the proof of that was sitting all around him at this table right now, chatting softly as they awaited the start of the meeting. Regardless of their fighting spirit however, they were still excruciatingly young. Several of them that made up the supposed “core group” of the combat response and covert operational forces of the Order had just graduated Hogwarts the previous spring. Though Alastor was just past forty himself, it was neigh impossible to not feel like an ancient compared to the sheer number of eighteen and nineteen-year-olds with him. Some, like the Potters or the Longbottoms, had thrown themselves headlong into marriage soon after graduation presumably out of a fear that they would not have another chance later down the road. Others, even those in their later twenties like the Prewett twins, threw themselves in and out of the beds of various people with a reckless and wild abandon, perhaps out of a fear of commitment lest their lives be cut short by the dangerous nature of their volunteerism. He did not want to entertain the thought, but still he had to wonder at how many of these people with him now would be here even a year from now?

“You alright, Sir? You’ve somehow managed to look more grim than usual.”

Pushing away from his depressing but realistic thoughts as a boatman from the shore, Alastor turned to his left to cast a look at Frank Longbottom, an eyebrow arched in annoyance. The younger Auror was smiling warmly at his mentor nonetheless, seemingly unbothered by the heat of the glare that would have surely sent many others off to engage someone else in conversation. Frank however was from a different sort of stock, not easily intimidated despite his genial demeanor.

“Why can’t you be this damn observant when filing your case notes, Longbottom?” Alastor chided him. Frank merely chuckled at this, shrugging his broad shoulders with a sheepish grin. He looked patently comical, especially with such a boyish face on his rather tall and broad frame.

“Can’t even give me a break out of the office, can you Moods? You know I try; I really do. I’m just a smidge absent-minded. Always have been. Just ask my mam.”

“I’d just as rather not.” Alastor had met the widowed Augusta Longbottom once, and once had been more than enough for him.

When Frank was done chuckling all over again, he turned a little further in his chair to better face his mentor and his expression grew more serious. “All fun and games aside, Sir. You’ve looked troubled since we arrived tonight. Are you still thinking about the giant incidents down South?”

Truthfully, Alastor hadn’t been thinking about the giant attacks at all, though he knew he should have been. But he also did not want to tell his protégé that he had instead been mulling over how worthless the Ministry had been, and how youthful the Order was, and wondering how many of the people in the room with them would live to see another turning of the season. The Ministry itself had been taking heavier losses as of late; what was to stop the Order of the Phoenix from being next? The Head Auror could not very well confide these fears in anyone else, not when he was supposed to be the source of strength for others. Still, of the very small list of people that Alastor Moody truly and fully trusted, Frank was near the top, perhaps only second to Dumbledore himself. He deserved something of the truth for that reason alone. Alastor sighed, letting a very small fraction of his actual fatigue show.

“I don’t believe the war is as even-handed as everyone thinks, Frank. I believe we’re losing and we just don’t know it yet. Or just won’t admit it.”

To his credit, Frank didn’t react other than a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. Good, Alastor thought to himself. He had personally trained the boy in interrogation techniques and self-control, so he had damned well better not react strongly in such a relatively public setting.

Further discussion on the matter was halted by the appearance of young Marlene McKinnon in her nightgown and a bathrobe, though because it was her family home they were using as Order headquarters if anyone had the right to appear so under-dressed, Alastor supposed she did; followed immediately after by the arrival of Dumbledore at long last through a burst of green Floo powder-lit flames in the large hearth of the traditional kitchen behind them.

The pair of Aurors were close enough allies - friends really, though Alastor would not say as such out loud – by now that they could hold silent conversations entirely through vague gestures and facial expressions. Frank raised a questioning brow as if to ask if they would continue their prior thread of conversation, and Alastor inclined his head in a very subtle nod of confirmation that they would indeed. They turned their focus to their leader as he came to sit at the head of the large dining room table.

“Apologies for my lateness, everyone. A rather unfortunate incident in the charms classroom this afternoon required my attention into the evening.” The headmaster fixed a neutral smile onto his face, and surveyed the table around him. “Who would like to begin this evening?”

Lily Potter stood up and clasped her hands in front of her. “I will, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore nodded to the young woman and gave her the floor. The rest of the group turned to face the young woman as well.

“Well…I have a small bit of good news to report.” The redhead cleared her throat and stood a little straighter, pushing her currently braided hair over her right shoulder before continuing on. “A few days ago, a small team consisting of several of us including myself had a successful drop in on a little Death Eater rally up in Barnton, and Auror Longbottom – Alice that is – was able to apprehend several of them. All lesser Death Eaters, no one with any real connection, but still, that’s more off the streets.”

Alastor had known this already of course, having been summoned to the scene along with several other Aurors in the aftermath, to assist with transporting the Death Eaters in custody. Though slight in stature, Alice Longbottom was arguably fiercer than her husband when it came to apprehending criminals, and Alastor was quite proud of her work and her high capture rate. Though he still disliked having a married couple partnered up for field work, he had to admit they worked damn well together.

“There was a slight incident prior to the arrests, though.”

Frowning, Alastor glanced sidelong at Frank, and further down the table to Alice. Neither Longbottom looked at him, eyes still fixed on Lily. He’d heard nothing about any other incidents, but he knew how the pair of them were. They fussed over him like he was an old uncle, and it would not have been the first time they withheld details to avoid “working him up” as they said.

Lily worked her lower lip between her teeth a moment before setting her jaw and pushing the words out as though squeezing them through a vise.

“Voldemort himself showed up. Just for a brief moment, just long enough to ask Alice and I to give up our efforts against him and join his ranks. Said that someone had been pushing for him to accept us into his fold before it was too late, and to stop squandering our chances at survival. We refused him, and he said we had better consider carefully because time was almost up. And then he left…”

The silence that followed was thicker and heavier than the homemade treacle tart that Hagrid so often forced off on everyone. It was Dumbledore who broke the silence with a thoughtful hum.

“This would be the second time that Voldemort has personally attempted to recruit you, would it not?” he asked, glancing at Lily over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

“Yes, Headmaster.” She confirmed. “Second time for myself. Third time for Alice, I believe?”

Attention shifted to Alice, and her normally cheerful face was tight, showing strain. “Yes. That was the third face to face encounter I’ve had. The other two, I was with my partner for.”

A few uncomfortable glances were exchanged around the table, along with a few muttered whispers. Dumbledore held up his hand for attention and silence, and was granted both instantly. He turned his attention to Alastor now. “Auror Moody. Do you have an opinion on the matter? This is significant, I would think. The fact that he is still attempting to recruit from within our ranks.”

It certainly was significant, but Alastor was still trying to connect his evidence as to why. He turned back to Lily, who still stood to attention much like an Auror herself. He still dearly wished he could recruit the girl, damn the rest of the ministry suits who claimed they couldn’t accept a Muggleborn into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in this current climate! “Potter. He addressed you directly the first time, didn’t he? Not your husband?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And this time, did he address you or Longbottom first?”

Lily shifted her weight to her other foot as she thought back, pensive a moment. Her bright eyes widened just a fraction after another moment. “Me, again. Though the offer was clearly made to both myself and Alice. And our husbands were included in it as well, to be entirely correct.”

“Seems odd, that the man hates Muggleborns so much and he’s trying so bloody hard to recruit you. Even he recognizes talent, sure. But how’d you even end up on his radar to begin with?” Alastor folded his arms over, sitting back a bit in his chair. “Someone could be putting names in his ears.”

At Alastor’s words, James Potter’s face grew dark. He looked as though he had someone in particular in mind, and from the look on Lily, so did she. He wanted to question both Potters further, but it was not the time or place for that sort of conversation. He wondered briefly if one of the Longbottoms could get a bit more information out, but remembering suddenly that Lily’s sister was one of their agents, thought that perhaps he could gather more information from Petunia, rather than run the risk of upsetting one of the Potters enough to do something hasty. It was a flip of the coin with that pair on whether it would be husband or wife that would let their emotions get the better of them any given day.

Dumbledore seemed to be of a similar mind as he thanked Lily for her report and motioned for her to take her seat again, then turned to Alastor. “If you would be so kind as to reach out to some of our field agents, to see if they might have further information? I believe it is as good a place as any to start. Whatever his reasons, it is deeply concerning to me that Voldemort shows interest in several of you. It is apparent that he considers you a threat, and wishes to remove you from the fight. I urge all of you, and the Potters and the Longbottoms in particular, to be especially cautious as the days drawn on.”

The entirety of the table nodded in assent, and the Headmaster folded his hands together on the table before him as he addressed the room once more. “If our colleagues from the Ministry would be so kind as to give their report next?”

Frank glanced to Alastor, who gave him a nod as the go-ahead to speak on their behalf, and then stood as Lily had before to address the group.

“I wish I had better news to report this evening, everyone. But we have reason to believe that the Ministry is still compromised. We’ve run through our entire department, and we believe the Auror division at the very least to be clear. But with evidence of increasingly more complex Imperius curses being placed on people, to the point of being nearly undetectable, our belief is just that – a belief, not a verified fact. We know thanks to intelligence from one of our own intermediary agents and a hidden agent within the ranks of the Death Eaters that use of Imperio is encouraged as a less dirty alternative in order to allow the Inner Circle as they are called to operate unseen. Whether officials in other departments are unwittingly aiding Voldemort, or are under the effects of the curse, the Death Eaters have managed to gain high level information that they should not have.”

Frank paused for a moment to let his words sink in, reaching up a broad hand to scratch at the back of his head and avoiding eye contact with the others. It was one of his tells, something that he’d been reminded of several times. Alastor made a mental note to remind him yet again to control the damned nervous gesture. From the corner of his eye, Alastor then saw Alice’s hand move off of the armrest of her chair to rest gently against her husband’s hip. The gesture seemed to calm and brace him, and Frank stood straight and calm once more. It was a small thing, but it was a familiar thing, and it was quite moving to the old Auror. He felt the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth before he could stop it, and quickly schooled his features back into his familiar scowl.

Clearing his throat and reaffirming himself, Frank continued. “As a Ministry, we’ve started trying to adopt a better system of information handling, things like spell detection and clearance before coming into contact with anyone in power, so department heads and anyone in the Minister’s office, and placing tracing charms on inter-Ministry memos and Ministry issued equipment. What we think really may help is if we had a conceal and reveal type application of charms for paperwork, like encoded messages that appear or disappear only to certain people.”

“Ah, Franky – Jim and I may be able to help you with that part. We should talk after the meeting.” Sirius Black interjected, a mischievous smile playing about his mouth as he gently elbowed his best friend beside him. James matched Sirius’ expression, in what was perhaps the first smile Alastor could recall seeing on the young man’s face in the past two months. James Potter hadn’t quite been the same since his elderly parents had passed peacefully in their sleep just after the turn of the new year, mere days apart from one another. Alastor took this as a sign that he was perhaps now starting to recover some semblance of his normally charismatic self as he moved along in his grieving process.

“I have no doubt your particular skills will be most helpful in that regard, Mister Black.” Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling as they so often did. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew both grinned as well, seeming to share in the private joke that the Headmaster was so clearly having. 

A moment passed, and the levity in the old wizard was gone, replaced by what looked to Alastor like a deep weariness as he stood next. “I believe I should make my own report then, to build upon what Auror Longbottom has told us regarding the leaks from within the Ministry.”

Frank took his seat once more, and placed his hand over his wife’s own on the arm of her chair. He glanced to his mentor, likely for approval that he had done well in his briefing. If he were a more sentimental man, Alastor would probably have been amused and flattered that his approval meant so much to the young man. He nodded anyway, and allowed the hardness of his facial expression to soften up a little. Frank seemed to appreciate the gesture, and smiled before turning back to Dumbledore.

“I would like to preface my next statement with the fact that we must not lose hope, and we must continue to fight still. All is not lost yet, and there is still much that we must do to turn the tide. But at the present moment, I am greatly saddened to state that I believe us to be losing this war.”

The air seemed to suck right out of the room, dead silence overtaking everyone.

 _“Damn it all do I hate being right all the bloody fucking time…”_ Alastor thought to himself.

“With that being said- ” Dumbledore continued on as if he had not just drained the fight right out of nearly two dozen people in the span of seconds, “I believe that the fervor with which Voldemort has been recruiting amongst the youngest of our population and his increasing efforts to take control within the Ministry both indicate that he is concerned, and trying to head off further resistance. With this in mind, and with the fact that he is dividing his attention between both matters, I feel that now the time is right to begin pushing back harder than before, precisely when he does not expect us to.”

“Bit more direct action, bit less hidin’ in the shadows, then?” Marlene McKinnon asked, perking up a bit. A current of energy seemed to bring the room back to life a little. Dumbledore nodded and gave her the sort of pleased look that a professor might give a student for a correct answer in class. 

“Thanks in large part to the efforts of our source within the Death Eater’s ranks, we know now that Voldemort’s inner circle has begun to get more directly involved in the shows of power such as we have seen in the town of Falmouth this previous winter. More of the key players will begin to turn up to show themselves as they grow more confident in their apparent victory. If we use the information from our source skillfully and selectively, I am sure that we will make a strong impact. Our members who are employed within the Auror department should benefit greatly from this as well.” The Headmaster turned to Alastor and the Longbottoms. “I trust that you will be able to generate interest in a more direct approach from your fellow Aurors who are not within the ranks of the Order?”

“Damn right we will!” Alice exclaimed excitedly. She looked embarrassed at her outburst, making a little “Oof!” sound and covering her mouth with the fingertips of her left hand. “I mean, yes, of course we will, Headmaster. We’ve got plenty of men eager to take action against the Death Eaters. And with good old Barty “The Bat” Crouch heading up both the DMLE and the Council of Magical Law, we’re bound to get approval to focus more resources on bringing them to justice.”

As fond as he was of little Alice and her endless enthusiasm, Alastor fought the urge to roll his eyes at her words. Everyone seemed to be quite impressed with Bartemius Crouch Senior, and he knew he was in the minority of people that just didn’t quite like him on a personal level outside of the bounds of their necessary professional relationship. The man said the right things of course, and Moody had worked with him for years now so he knew Crouch was about as likely to be a Death Eater or corrupted by one as he himself was likely to hop on the table right now and do a jig. Their relationship went back quite a ways, to when he was just an investigative Auror and Crouch had been an overeager clerk in the Wizengamot’s prosecution front office, and they worked together quite closely now that Crouch ran the entire department, and was technically his boss. While Alastor had no doubt that Barty Crouch operated with what he felt was the greater good in mind, he did not trust the man’s clear self-interested career ambitions, and often felt that Crouch was too hard lined on some hot-button issues, and deathly quiet on other matters, especially those that pertained to the rights of non-human magical species.

The somber mood in the dining room lifted, and a clearly pleased Dumbledore smiled fondly at all of them. “That is most heartening, Alice. Thank you. Now, let us decide the best plan of action.”

The Headmaster took his seat once more, and discussion began in earnest.

* * *

_13 th April, 1979 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

They were winning the war.

Or if they weren’t clearly winning it before, then Regulus thought they were certain to be winning it now, after the events of just a few short hours ago where his boyfriend – the official sound of that word still sent a thrill through him – was gifted with the Dark Mark after just a handful of months’ service to the Dark Lord’s noble cause. Regulus himself had been allowed to bring the blindfolded Barty to the run down and abandoned orphanage in London where he had also been given the Dark Mark, though he did not know the location at the time. Lucius had to fetch them from Hogsmeade to Side-Along them both into London, since they were only recently turned seventeen in the past few months and neither had been able to take their Apparition test just yet, but nonetheless Regulus had the honor of being present as Witness for Barty’s private marking ceremony with their Lord.

A warm pair of lips brushing against his bare left shoulder drew his attention out of his thoughts and onto the other boy in bed behind him. Heat went through Regulus’ face as Barty draped his bandaged left arm protectively around his waist. They lay together back to chest in the plush four-poster bed, the curtains drawn tightly shut though they were completely alone, as none of Regulus’ dorm mates had stayed at the castle over the Easter holiday like he had this year. It was still a bit warm for his tastes, his skin still heated from their actions just a little bit before. It was hardly the first time they had slept together, but it was the first time they had been able to stay together afterwards. He hadn’t made a habit of this with his previous trysts, especially since many had taken place with people in other houses. But now that he was experiencing it, Regulus wondered how he had done without it.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there, Reg?”

Regulus shifted his arm and placed his hand over Barty’s. “Just about how happy I am to have you officially part of the Inner Circle now. We’re going to be unstoppable once we can be at His side full time. Just wish we could skip next year altogether really.”

Barty sighed, pressing another kiss to Regulus’ shoulder. “You and me both. But the Dark Lord insisted that our education is still necessary, and we need to maintain a cover. Especially since he wants me to gather information from my idiot father wherever I can.”

Regulus gave his boyfriend’s hand a comforting squeeze. “I know.”

“Wish he’d just do me a favor and drop dead.”

Barty must have sensed Regulus’ discomfort from the sudden tensing of his body. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me, with your father so recently gone.”

“It’s alright. I mean it’s been a whole month so I really shouldn’t be so bothered by it. I wasn’t really particularly close to him or anything but…there’s a lot of pressure on me now is all. My mum is beside herself still. She already wears black all the time so that’s normal, but she’s wearing a mourning veil and barely leaving the house. My poor house-elf has had to care for her round the clock. And then my bastard brother didn’t even bother to show up for the funeral or even send a letter back, like the heartless arse he is. You know I wrote to the stupid berk myself to tell him so he wouldn’t have to find out in the Prophet’s obituaries? I’m glad he was already disowned. So…it’s just me and my mum and I suppose that means I’m the head of the family now? I don’t know. I’ve been preparing for this for years but I didn’t think it would come so soon.”

“I would gladly trade your father’s life for my father’s life if I could.” Barty whispered against Regulus’ ear, pressing a kiss to his lobe. Regulus took a good deal of comfort from it, snuggling back against the blonde and tighter into his embrace.

“You’re sweet, Barty. Really. I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me. Need to just toughen up and be a Slytherin about it. The longer I’m in this Muggle-loving hell hole of a school the more those stupid Hufflepuffs must be infecting me with their stupid over-emotional ways.”

“Maybe you’ve had too many of them around you? Or too much Ravenclaw in you?” Barty teased, pressing himself tighter to Regulus, against his backside in particular.

Regulus hummed, almost a purr of pleasure as he turned to look over his shoulder. Thanks to the dim glow of the green lamps outside of the curtains, he could just make out the intense look Barty was fixing him with, a smirk on his freckled face, his dark eyes glittering with a passion bordering on what could almost be described as manic. Regulus loved him for it, for how intense Barty could be when in the midst of passion – whether it be passion for scholarly pursuits, or more carnal knowledge.

“Darling I don’t think I’ve had nearly enough Ravenclaw in me yet. Well…maybe I have for tonight. But first thing in the morning I’ll be ready for more again.” Regulus laughed when Barty pouted, kissing the tip of his nose before turning back around and resting his head on his pillow. “How’s your arm feeling? Mine hurt for a few days afterwards. You didn’t even flinch! I was very impressed. And I think our Master was too.”

“Still stings a bit but that salve you had dulled most of it away. Where did you come by that stuff anyway? I swear it felt like it was thicker than a traditional pain-relieving balm but it didn’t smell like there was any flobberworm mucus in it and that’s usually what thickens most balms and salves.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. He was by no means an idiot himself, and was near top of their class too, but Barty had a thirst for information that could be exhausting sometimes. “Do you ever turn off that Ravenclaw brain of yours? I don’t know anything about the technical aspect of it, but Severus made it for me. I use it as a pain reliever for my muscles after Quidditch training mostly. But it works for near anything. Do you want me to ask him about it in my next letter to him?”

“Hmph. No thanks. I don’t think your best friend likes me very much.”

“Severus doesn’t like anyone. He just tolerates people.”

Barty snorted in reply. “Alright, fine. I don’t think he _tolerates_ me very much.”

“He’ll warm up to you, just wait. He’d better get used to you being around now. To be fair to him, he’s just not a people person. He’s gotten so much better at it, especially lately. Though truthfully I think that’s because he’s secretly seeing someone and just doesn’t want to tell anybody yet.”

“How do you figure that if he hasn’t told even you?”

Regulus scoffed, clicking his tongue. “Really Barty, do you think I can’t tell the look of a man who’s been getting laid? He’s been happier now than I’ve ever seen him in all the years I’ve known him, and I guarantee you it’s not because of his apprenticeship in Knockturn. I just hope that he trusts me enough to tell me all the details when he’s ready to divulge.”

Another kiss landed on Regulus’ neck. “I’m sure he will. And besides, you’re good at getting information out of people. I think you’d even make a decent spy, you know?”

It wasn’t something that Regulus had thought about before. But the confident praise from his boyfriend had set him to thinking once more, this time about how he might better serve the Dark Lord, and what role he may play in things once the war was over. It **would** end someday; of that he was certain. But when they had won, and pure bloods took their proper place, what would he do then? He would be a veteran of the war, a scion of a new order. Once more he squeezed Barty’s hand under his own, and tried to envision what his adult life would be like, hopefully with the boy behind him in it.

“You really think so? I haven’t given the future much thought…”

“Do you think I would have said it if I didn’t mean it? Of course I think so. It’s a little surprising to me that you haven’t been thinking of it constantly. The future is all I can seem to think about these days.” Barty sighed, sounding wistful. “A world where we don’t have to hide our strength. No more mudbloods running around with wands they don’t deserve. Muggles in their proper place. And us at the side of the man who will see it all happen. I think I’d like to be one of our Lord’s enforcers someday. Like your cousin Bellatrix is.”

“The last thing the world needs is more of that bitch. But you’d be far better at it than she is, I’m sure. I still don’t fully know what His enforcers do, but I presume it’s what we already do. Little shows of power to our enemies, a little torture here and there, reminding them they’re beneath us. That sort of thing. I can ask Lucius, he may be able to shed some light for me.”

Fatigue began to creep over Regulus, and he found himself yawning as his eyes grew heavier. The excitement of the day and the spectrum of his emotions, coupled with their rather physical activity not long before had finally begun to take their toll on him.

Barty finally settled himself more comfortably on his own pillow after giving a muffled yawn of his own, before turning his palm over to lace his fingers with Regulus’. “Don’t let me talk your ear off all night when you’re tired. We’ll have all day tomorrow to talk. We can stay in bed all morning if you want. I doubt anyone will notice if we skip breakfast. Maybe take a nice long soak together in the Prefect’s bath.”

“I think I’d like that very much.” Regulus closed his eyes, feeling satisfied and brimming with affection. He wondered if this was the exact sort of feeling he had been regularly missing out on over the years, both from his dysfunctional family and his inability to commit to his flings. “Good night Barty.”

“Good night, Reg. Sweetest dreams.”

Wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms and hopeful for the way the tide of the war was turning, Regulus knew he would have no less.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we've spent a little time with Moody, and a little time with Regulus, on opposite ends of the war spectrum. (I swear Reggie/Al is 100% endgame, though it definitely doesn't seem like it right now.)
> 
> Universe willing, the next chapter should not take such a painfully long time to write. Thank you for your patience with me. I hope you all are staying as healthy and safe as possible, and I thank you as always for reading and for your feedback. 
> 
> Till next time (in which we see how Petunia and Severus have been faring since their Christmas kiss),  
> -TR


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Explicit/Vivid (fully consensual) adult sexual content! (Yes, this finally is what you probably think it is.) If you are uncomfortable with or sensitive to this sort of thing then please be cautious! If you don't care to read that sort of material but don't want to miss any story elements, either just skip over the italicized portions, or please feel free to reach out to me and I can give a smut-less summary of events! I would hate for anyone to be uncomfortable. 
> 
> Stylistic Note: Italics indicate past events / flashback format. They are all taking place internally. Only the un-italicized portions are present events / out loud. (If you're unsure, feel free to comment and ask and I can clarify!)

* * *

_9 th May, 1979 - Stockwell, Middle of London Borough of Lambeth, England_

“I don’t know what baffles me more. The idea that Severus Snape has had sexual relations, or the idea that Severus Snape _continues_ to have sexual relations. Regularly.”

Petunia folded over the copy of _The Daily Mail_ that she had been reading and cast an un-amused look over the top of it at Remus across the table, her lips pursed and eyebrow raised in warning.

Remus merely chuckled at her very cross expression, un-intimidated and continuing to laugh as she rolled the paper, reached across the table, and swatted him atop his head with it.

“That’s a pretty impressive swing, Tunes! And with a newspaper at that! I bet you would make a very good Beater, you know? Well…suppose you’ve been doing a different sort of beat- hey! Come on, now! I’m stating facts, aren’t I?” Remus raised a hand to shield the crown of his head from further attack as Petunia stood from her chair, but rather than attempt to get around his hand she instead leaned further forward and thwacked him soundly across the face.

“You’ve spent far too much time with Sirius!” Petunia declared, huffing indignantly as she sat back down in her chair over the sounds of Remus’ now even louder laughter. She unrolled the paper and smoothed it out with both hands, making a show of trying to resume her reading. It was an entirely pointless endeavor and she very well knew it. In truth, she had been waiting for Remus to circle back to this exact topic for several months now, since she had spilled her secret to him in private in Lily’s kitchen. They had simply not had any time alone since then for him to broach the subject again.

“By virtue of living with him in one capacity or another for nearly a decade I tend to agree with you, Tunes. Why are you reading that rubbish anyway? It’s all Conservative propaganda isn’t it?” Remus gestured to the newspaper on the table, resting his chin in his palm as he frowned down at a picture of the newly elected PM Margaret Thatcher.

Petunia frowned down at it as well, nose wrinkling in displeasure as she again recalled what a dreadful mess the woman was about to make of things. “My ex used to read this like it was scripture and rant on in agreement with it. Suppose I just fancied a laugh this morning so I picked up a copy.”

Remus hummed as if in thought, still staring down at the front page image intently.

“You look like you’re trying to read her thoughts, Remus.”

He started as though he had been wrapped in his thoughts and just noticed she was still there. “Sorry. I was just thinking that it’s sort of odd, not seeing them move.” He gestured to the photo in the paper, then pointed to a photograph of himself and Sirius on the living room wall just a short distance away from them. The photograph showed the pair from just a year or so ago, waving towards the viewer. A moment later Sirius would lean in to press an exaggerated and exuberant kiss against Remus’ cheek, and Remus would laugh and tighten his arm around Sirius’ waist in a loving embrace before the image would reset itself. “You’d think I’d still be used to both kinds of photographs. But when you spend so much of your time in the magical community it makes Muggle things start to seem a little strange, even for a half blood like me.”

“I can imagine. Why does the magical world seem to make you choose like that? Why can’t you just embrace both worlds? Seems like you would have a mighty advantage, combining Muggle and Wizard things. The other day I asked Sev why he hasn’t bothered to get a driving license and he looked at me like I had lost all sense. It could only be an advantage knowing how to drive my car, you’d think. It was like using Muggle transportation hadn’t even occurred to him. As if he and Lily didn’t used to hop the underground and the bus during the summers when they were younger.”

“Hold on a moment, it’s gotten that serious between you that you can picture him learning to drive your car?” It was Remus’ turn to arch a brow at his friend. Petunia knew she must have been turning red as she looked askance.

It had been in a small moment of weakness back in mid-February when she’d confided in Remus that she had slept with Severus, several times in fact by then. Lily and James had invited several people over, and she and Remus had been preparing more food together in the kitchen when finally, she was unable to keep holding it in and had to tell him what she had done. Remus was after all the only person aside from Dumbledore or Moody who knew she even had contact with Severus, let alone a strong friendship with him, and she could not have very well confessed to either of the older men that she was now seeing their high-level Death Eater spy as much more than a friend. As it was, Remus did not know that she and Severus both were working for the Order, nor did he know anything about the sizable age difference that actually existed between them. She had fretted over whether she would ever find a way to tell Remus, or any of the other people she now considered to be her friends the truth about her life before this and her fantastical return to the past. Petunia wondered if she even **wanted** to tell them, or if she preferred to take that secret to the grave, and simply live out her days with them none the wiser.

She must have remained silent for a moment too long, because Remus now reached across the table to place a comforting hand over hers. “Petunia please don’t mistake me, I’ve absolutely trusted your judgement regarding him so far and from what little you _have_ told me about your interactions with him, it seems like perhaps he’s…I dunno, maybe he really has changed a little for the better since leaving school. I just worry over my friends and you are most definitely my friend. I would hate for anything to go wrong, especially if it turns out that my suspicions are right and he is actually fighting on the other side of the war that me and the others are wrapped up in. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, is all.”

“I appreciate that, believe me I do. But I promise you, he wouldn’t.”

Remus patted her hand before withdrawing his own and picked his wand up from the other side of the table. He pointed it towards the counter and wordlessly prompted the electric kettle to turn back on, then made a swish-and-flick motion to float over a bag of crisps. Petunia reached in to take a few for herself before the bag even touched down on the table, and Remus set his wand back down.

“Alright. Finally ready to give me some details about how this all happened in the first place then? I’m probably far more curious than I should be but I have got to know what happened.”

Petunia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Where to even begin? How much to say? It was all so vivid in her mind, every detail still perfect. It was impossible to forget the moment one crossed several lines at once. She settled on starting with the catalyst for it all.

“It started with a kiss on Christmas Eve. Actually, it was past midnight, so Christmas morning. He had given me a very thoughtful and sweet gift and I was moved and I’ve been harboring feelings for him for longer than I would like to confess so I…I just went in for it as he was saying goodbye and then he left and I spent the entire next day with my mum and Lily and James back home in Cokeworth and I was a walking disaster the whole time. Especially knowing Sev wasn’t very far away, just on the other side of the river…I actually broke a dish. Me. I never break dishes. It slipped right from my hand. James had to put it back together for me, I was so embarrassed.”

She remembered the clear concern on Lily’s face as her brother-in-law chuckled and handed her the mended plate with an over-dramatic bow, declaring himself “at her majesty’s service for all repairs”. Petunia had brushed it off with a wave of the hand, claiming fatigue and having been up all night before preparing the Christmas biscuits that she had in actuality made the night _before_ last. Lily had accepted the answer, and their mum called them to the table moments after.

Remus waved a hand to bid her continue as he rose to deal with the now-whistling kettle and prepare them both another cup of tea. Petunia nodded and carried on.

“I saw him again on New Year’s Eve. I’d already invited him over for that well beforehand. He had a party to attend so he couldn’t stay the entire time but-”

“Severus Snape - Prince - whatever had a party to attend?”

At Petunia’s sharp look Remus raised his hands in surrender and quickly quieted himself.

“As I was saying, Severus had a party to attend and I can’t exactly be seen out and about with him so I could not attend. But he had wanted to come spend the afternoon and early evening with me. And he was going to prepare himself for the party at my flat.”

_Severus had been almost shy, she remembered. As if he was unsure of what to do or how to act. She had welcomed him in the same as always, acted normally with him as though nothing was amiss, as though she had not done something potentially catastrophic just a week before._

“Things were a little strange at first. But we talked it all out fairly well I think.”

_The first hour was almost painfully awkward as neither of them seemed to want to acknowledge that something had changed. Finally, Petunia reminded herself she was not in fact actually a twenty-something, and decided to be a grown woman about things and take charge._

_“Severus this is ridiculous.” She had said to him in a huff, turning herself to face him as they sat side by side on her couch. “Listen, I do not regret for an instant that I kissed you, unless you would rather that I hadn’t. If so just tell me, and I’ll apologize, and it will never happen again. But if it was okay, then I should like to do it again. Right now.”_

_Her face was flushed as soon as the words left her mouth, and he stared at her, wide eyed, his own mouth agape. Petunia thought for a moment she had made a grave mistake, and panic flared up in her chest, the old anxiety roaring back as it always did the moment it had a place to take hold._

_Upon seeing that she was quite serious, Severus closed his mouth and leaned forward with determination in his dark eyes. She knew that face – he was slipping into his mask of calm, putting on the veneer of confidence and polish that he had been perfecting as a spy. It would have been very effective no doubt on someone who didn’t know already that he was a walking disaster of emotion inside._

_“Far be it from me to stop you, then.” His lips quirked into a smirk. Petunia returned the same expression, took his face between her hands, and pulled him down into a much feistier kiss than the one that had preceded it on her doorstep a week before._

“Are you officially seeing one another then? Boyfriend and girlfriend and whatnot?” Remus asked as he set down Petunia’s cup in front of her. She tapped the side of the squat, functional red teacup with her manicured nails before glancing up to him.

“Er…not quite, no. We didn’t actually put a label to it, necessarily. Especially with the current…state of things. I felt that may perhaps frighten him off in a way.”

“And shagging him wouldn’t? You’ve had no problem doing that apparently.”

Petunia rolled her eyes and busied herself with sugaring her tea. “To my defense that first time was rather…spontaneous. I don’t think either of us was thinking properly at the time…”

_They had been snogging rather passionately for God only knew how long by the time Petunia realized it had begun to grow dark outside, thanks to the disappearance of what little sunlight had been streaming in through the half-opened living room blinds. The fingers of her right hand were laced in his lank hair, her left hand tightly against his shoulder as she lay on her back on the couch with his body over her own. Severus seemed to come to the same realization as he gently pulled away from her, releasing the hold he’d had on her waist and the side of her face. There was no hiding the flush over the bridge of his hooked nose and the slight hollows of his sallow cheeks._

_“I have to get ready for the Malfoy party…” he had said with so much clear disappointment that Petunia’s heart nearly ached. She had the trailing thought that this was very likely only the second time he’d ever kissed a girl, and almost certainly the first time he’d ever had a snog session on the couch like that. There had been a few moments of slight trial and error, his nose getting in the way once or twice, their lips missing the mark just slightly, one little clicking of teeth that had caused them both to laugh. Petunia was a bit out of practice herself, but they had quite quickly adapted to one another’s mouths._

“We’d been having a bit of a snog. But he had to get ready for his party, he only had about two hours or so and the party was very upscale so he needed to make sure his appearance was in order. So I…” Petunia cleared her throat, face warming again, looking anywhere but at Remus. “I offered to help him. To erm…shower with him that is.”

Remus spat a little of the tea he had been sipping back into his mug, sputtering a little with laughter. It was not mean-spirited however, that much Petunia could tell. “Atta girl, Tunes! Right for the kill. I have to admit I am deeply impressed, that’s mighty bold of you!”

“It was TOO bold of me, I’m not normally that sort of woman! But I’ve been trying to be…better. Stronger. There’s no reason why I can’t initiate things instead.”

“And did he take you up on that?”

“…yes. Yes, he did.”

_Petunia and Severus stared at one another, as though making sure the other wasn’t going to suddenly change their minds. She stood up from the couch and offered him her hand. He was nervous, that much was abundantly clear - by now, Petunia figured she could read his expressions better than most. She gave him a patient smile, and waited for him to gather his wits and follow her down the hall to her bedroom and her adjacent bathroom._

_She didn’t want to question anything further, less she lost her own nerve. She stepped out of her flats and nudged them towards the closet with her bare foot. Petunia ran the water hot, adjusted the temperature a few times, and switched the flow of the water from bath to shower. When she turned back around, Severus was fidgeting with the lower hem of his well-worn but favorite brown bomber, looking troubled._

_“What’s wrong?” she asked him softly, wondering if she had made too bold a move, too fast._

_“I’ve never…been this way with someone before.” He gestured to the shower, then to himself. “I’ll be blunt. I’m not much to look at. I’ve always known it. Your bloody brother-in-law ensured that I never forgot it, either.” He looked away, bitterness in his words and his posture._

_Petunia stepped closer to him and took him gently by the arms. “The last thing I want to think about right now is James, so don’t let him trouble you right now, alright?”_

_Severus grumbled, but he nodded and finally looked her in the eyes again._

_She smiled at him and gently ran her hands up and down his rather bony arms. “And maybe you’re not some roguishly handsome high fashion model. What do I care about that? I find you handsome in your own way. I love your hands. The expressiveness of your eyes. I know you hate your nose but I actually find it quite charming. And besides all that, you have a very strong appeal to me beyond the physical. You are brilliantly intelligent and can hold a conversation for hours - when it’s something you care about. And let’s be quite honest, Sev. If we’re talking about looks? I’m no beauty queen myself. I’m sure I could go on with a sizable list of what I dislike about myself, if I set to it. Just offhand I can name a few things. Breasts are too small. Neck is too long. Front teeth are too big. You used to call me a horse-faced bitch when Lily wasn’t listening, remember?”_

_He looked a little ashamed at that part, but nonetheless Severus seemed to be comforted by her words. He seemed to her eyes like he wanted to argue parts of it, but he kept quiet._

_“But if you don’t want to do this, please tell me. I don’t want you to feel forced, that wouldn’t be right. I care for you far too much to take advantage of you.” She finished softly._

_Severus still did not break eye contact, and he looked at her intently. She always swore he was looking through her very soul when he gave her that intense stare. Finally, he leaned down to kiss her once more. It was soft, and it was shy, but it carried intent and it rooted her to the spot in its bare sincerity. She reached up and gently pushed the jacket off of his narrow shoulders, holding onto it and tossing it onto the bed behind them. Severus tugged off his faded black tee shirt from the bottom, pulling it up and over his head. Despite his finances being much better now, he still wore his handed down and worn Muggle clothing more often than not when he was with her. She wanted to ask if it was a matter of comfort, or just a matter of him not buying clothing other than for necessity. She presumed it had something to do with the latter, since he had purchased several sets of robes and a few new pairs of slacks for his day to day Wizarding life. The question could wait for later she ultimately decided as she unbuttoned her own blouse and dropped it to the carpet beside the closet door._

_His eyes ran methodically over her frame, and she watched him look over her before turning her own eyes over his torso. He reminded her of an old scarecrow in a few ways; tall and lanky and lean in ways that he probably always would be, doubtlessly due to his chronically underfed and turbulent youth. He had no meat to him really, no muscle whatsoever to speak of unlike Vernon, who had actually had a little before he grew ever wider and fatter over the long years of their marriage. Severus was the dead opposite of Vernon in every way, and she loved him all the more for it. Her eyes lingered just a moment over the snake and skull tattoo emblazoned on his pale inner left forearm. Since the night in Falmouth and her talk afterwards with Moody, she had looked at that symbol differently. This war was hers now as much as it was his, and she appreciated a little more the sacrifice that Severus had made by taking it permanently onto his flesh._

_Slowly, steadily, they both finished discarding their clothing and finally stood before one another at long last, entirely nude and exposed to one another._

_“I don’t…” Severus began, nearly causing Petunia to snatch up all her clothing again as she was certain he was about to put a stop to all this. He cleared his throat and tried again, voice more assertive yet casual all at once as though he was trying to reassure himself and outwardly seem unbothered. She knew him better than that, but she wasn’t about to let on about it now._

_“I don’t think your breasts are too small. They’re prominent enough to have caught my attention for…some time now.” He said at last, and she swore his face reddened more at the mere passing of the word “breasts” from his lips._

_Her heart dislodged itself from the bottom of her stomach, and finally settled again. Confidence restored to her once more, Petunia took Severus by the hand. “Come on, before the water runs cold.”_

Remus cleared his throat, pulling Petunia out of her reminiscing. He had abandoned his tea entirely, eating crisps at a rapid pace and seemingly fascinated by her story thus far – the little pieces that she was opting to tell him aloud, at any rate. “Alright so you shagged him in the shower on the first go? How long have you been holding onto these feelings that you jumped from a single kiss to a shag?”

She scoffed, frowning at him. “Oh of course I didn’t shag him in the shower, how stupid do you think I am!” Petunia cleared her throat and dipped her hand back into the crisps bag, swatting Remus’ much larger hand out of her way. “…I shagged him _after_ we got out. Do you know how dangerous it is to try to get up to anything more than foreplay while _in_ the shower?”

“I figured that out the first time Sirius injured himself trying to do it back in school. I warned him it was a bad idea. And he was too proud to go to the hospital wing and have his injured knee treated. The stupid git limped around for a week and a half afterwards.” He shook his head, snickering a little at the memory of it as Petunia laughed with him.

“I can absolutely see that. To answer you, I’ve been holding those feelings for a bit longer than you likely even thought I was. Longer than I was willing to admit to myself. I was in such hard denial.”

“Fair enough. I retract my earlier question, then. Now as you were saying then, you had a little before-bed fun in the shower with him. Go on, I’m invested in the whole saga now.”

Petunia couldn’t exactly put it in words what it meant to her, but she felt another surge of gratitude to Remus for his friendship. She wished that she could gush to her sister about her newly passionate romantic life and lamented that she could not. But she was so thankful for Remus being there as a listening ear, and for being genuinely pleased for her and invested in her happiness despite not caring much for her partner. She trusted him completely after the past year of their growing bond, and so continued with the heavily censored version of her story even as she remembered the explicit and lewd details. “Yes, yes, alright. So, we spent a fair bit of time in the shower first…”

_A clatter of bottles to the floor of the bath startled the both of them as Severus’ hand slapped against the steam-slicked wall, his arm taking the contents of the inset ledge out entirely. Petunia jolted in surprise, pulling her mouth off of his with a breathless gasp that turned into a girlish laugh as she caught Severus’ sour expression. He glared down at the displaced bottles and a bar of soap as though they had personally affronted him. She tightened her fist around the base of his stiffened cock in a gentle squeeze to draw his attention back; the very same gesture at the end of a long stroke of his length had been what caused his hand to slap against the wall in the first place._

_“Why the bloody hell have you got so many bottles in your shower in the first place?”_

_“What do you mean so many? It’s shampoo, conditioner, body scrub, and shave cream. Fairly standard I would think.” He looked at her blankly, and she stopped her ministrations for a moment. “Well alright I suppose a lot of men don’t use conditioner for whatever silly reason, and body scrub is more a woman’s product, but it’s not that many extra things, is it?”_

_“I don’t…I didn’t…realize there were so many…things.” He forced out after a moment. Something about the shamefaced way he had confessed it put the pieces together in her mind; he had grown up painfully poor, and he’d always had overly oily hair as long as she’d known him. She had bullied him for it, and assumed that he had poor hygiene. But his words caused her to realize that perhaps his family had just been too poor to afford the various types of bath products that she had taken for granted._

_“…oh.” She reached up with the hand that had not been stroking him off, and brushed his wet hair away from his cheek. He was still sensitive about his upbringing and she wanted to tread lightly, lest she destroy the mood completely. “Sev I’m so sorry, I never realized when we were younger…that perhaps your family couldn’t afford certain things. That may be why your hair gets a little…unkempt sometimes, from going without for a long time. A good shampoo and conditioner ought to do the trick. I’m more than willing to help figure how to care for it better now.”_

_Petunia watched the little battle of emotions play out across his face, the fierce pride in combat with the softness and vulnerability that he allowed himself in front of her from time to time, like now._

_“I suppose I wouldn’t mind that too much.”_

_She kissed his cheek, and slid her other hand along the slight jut of his hipbone back down to his groin. Pressing her palm against him, she could feel that he’d gone a little soft again in the aftermath of the little accident with the toiletries. She was more than confident she could fix that._

_“Good. While I’m helping you with things, let me help with something else.” Slowly, she trailed her fingers down his length again. His breath hitched as she slid two fingers under his length to his bollocks to give him a delicate stroke before cupping them in her palm. It didn’t take long for him to stiffen again, and she gave a proud little huff as her hand wrapped around his shaft once more and she finally drew a low moan from the back of his throat._

Petunia stood from the table to go to the sink for a glass of water, resisting the urge to cool her burning face by splashing herself with the stream from the tap. She was a grown woman, she lamented in her mind. She had just spent the night with Severus just last night, she was more than satiated rather regularly, so there was no reason to be getting so flustered now thinking about their first night together when it had been so many months ago now. “But I stopped short of finishing things off there. I had other things in mind by that point and as we discussed a minute ago, shagging in the shower isn’t safe.”

“You have a perfectly safe bed though, am I right?” Remus commented in a teasing tone.

She winked at him as she came back to the table, tapping her nose twice with her index finger.

_Petunia nearly lost all of her remaining control when Severus pulled back from their latest round of passionate lip-locking to look down at her beneath him as though drinking her down with his eyes. She was on her back on her own bed, still-wet blonde hair plastered to her neck and shoulders and likely soaking the pillow beneath her. His eyes were more alive than she’d ever seen, and she swore that for once, SHE could see though HIM; vulnerable, maybe even a little in over his head, wondering like she was at how this had happened so fast._

_“You know I’ve never done this before, Petunia. I’m…not really sure about how to…”_

_It was a statement and an admission at the same time, and she was both proud of him for admitting it - for Severus Prince did not ever like to admit when he was not a master of a subject, even one like this – and fond of him for being so shy and honest about his inexperience._

_Petunia on the other hand…not only had she already been a married woman and borne a child in her past - she’d also had a lot of time to learn about herself and her basest desires in her newly-single life. Over the last year, in absence of a relationship with a man, Petunia had finally let herself come to know her own sexual nature as a woman; what she liked, and how she liked it, how much she could take and push past her own limits. She’d even overcome her own deep shyness with her own desire to purchase a toy for self-pleasure while out on a girl’s night once with Lily and Marlene at what she had presumed at first was a rather seedy Muggle adult shop, but had turned out to be quite nice._

_She placed a hand on his shoulder. Petunia fully knew herself, and she wanted to know him now. She’d done this before – he had not. And she wanted this to be something pleasurable for him. She’d spent too long catering to Vernon’s needs because she’d felt obligated. For Severus, she wanted to cater to his needs because she was utterly in love with him._

_“It’s alright, Sev. I have. And I know. Switch places with me.” She gently pushed on his shoulder, and sat up. A moment later saw their positions reversed, with him on his back where she had been. She carefully straddled his narrow hips, but stayed on her knees and looked down at him as he had done to her. “It’ll be alright, I’ll do all the work for now. Just follow my lead, and it’ll come to you naturally.” She smiled, hoping to dispel her own nerves as much as his. He smiled up at her, one of the precious few she’d seen on his face. It made her want him more. She reached a hand down to guide his erection to her entrance, and gently sank down onto him, taking the stiff length of him slowly but steadily, inch by inch, till he was fully sheathed within her. Petunia whimpered gently with relief, having wanted this for months on end now. She’d fantasized about it often enough for certain._

_Severus grunted softly, and Petunia felt him twitch inside of her. She leaned forward, bracing with one hand on his torso and the other on his shoulder, and with far more restraint than she ever knew she had, she began to work herself up just as slowly before moving her hips to carefully bring herself back down upon him once more. It was maddeningly slow, and she had to remind herself over and over in her mind that this was for his enjoyment too and she could not simply ride him fast and hard like she was aching to do. And somehow, the easy and steady pace continued, gentle and methodical._

“I still can’t believe I’m asking this but…how was it?” Remus lowered his voice and leaned forward, despite the fact that he and Petunia were alone in his flat.

Petunia knew she had a soft, soppy expression on her face even before Remus stuck his tongue out and made a retching sound. She shot him a perturbed glance and plucked the paper off the table, ready to roll it again when he snatched it from her hands and tucked it under his bottom, sitting on it.

“It was lovely, thank you for asking you bloody pervert.” There was no real venom in her tone and they both knew it. It only took a second for a smile to come right back onto her face. “It was nice though. Romantic. Not as wild and thrilling as you were expecting. Not that night, anyway. Since then…we’ve managed to be rather adventurous sometimes.”

_She was so close now, she could feel it building up, pleasure coiling tight in the pit of her stomach. The only sound she could hear over the rush of white noise in her head was Severus’ heavy breathing and the slight creak of her bed frame as she rode him hard, each roll and bounce of her hips bringing them together again and again, more intense each time. Petunia leaned further forward, spreading her legs a little wider to change the angle, and she swore she saw stars when Severus’ right hand came up from nowhere and palmed her left breast entirely, squeezing it firmly. How he had the wherewithal to know she liked her breasts to be played with, she had no idea. But he withdrew his hand briefly to pinch her taut nipple between his index finger and thumb, and it left her gasping and sputtering for breath as her fluid movement became stuttered. Severus must have been emboldened by her reaction she thought, because his left hand now came to firmly clasp the right side of her arse and, as if an afterthought, he then gave it a sound little smack. He did it again and her eyes fluttered shut, and it was that exact moment that Petunia knew she was undone._

“Was he late to his little New Year’s Party?”

Petunia cleared her throat, and she hoped her silence was a sufficient answer to him.

_They lost track of time in the aftermath of their pleasure. Severus had not been far behind Petunia in release, and Petunia had slumped to the bed beside him in utter exhaustion. It had been a very, very long time since she’d done anything like this, and she was sure she could sleep for a century. All too soon, Severus groaned “the bloody party…” and gave Petunia a wistful look. She had forgotten it too, and a glance at the clock revealed that he had only fifteen minutes before he was due to arrive._

_“Damn!” Petunia swore, slipping out of bed. She fetched her robe and pulled it around herself, going off to get her hairbrush while Severus slipped into his newest set of dress robes. They were a blur of motion around one another, working together in near-perfect tandem to get him ready. Petunia had many a year to practice getting menfolk ready to go somewhere in a hurry, and her experience had him presentable once more with four minutes to spare. He fiddled briefly with the cloak pin that she had given him for his graduation from Hogwarts, and Petunia helped him set it to rights before smoothing out his collar and giving him a pleased smile._

_Severus smiled back before schooling his features back to their more neutral expressions, bordering on a permanently displeased look. “…Right. Well. I’ll send word with anything I learn tonight. Likely not till tomorrow afternoon though. I may end up staying over at the manor.”_

_Petunia could not help but laugh at how quickly he wrapped his all-business, no nonsense persona about himself like a dramatic cape. “That’s fine. Just be careful, as always. You can pick your Muggle clothes up later in the week when you come for dinner. I’ll take care of them for you.” He nodded stiffly, and again Petunia could not contain her laughter._

_“Sev. You don’t have to act so awkward. Especially not after the go we just had at one another. It’s still just me. We’re still friends. Nothing has to change with that.” A few emotions flicked over Severus’ face at once, and she realized how it must have sounded. Panicking a little, Petunia waved her hands and attempted to explain better. “I didn’t mean it like that was all, I only meant that the base of it hasn’t changed. You’re still my friend. But you’re also…you know. My…partner.”_

_The word had taken on a double meaning now, and she was worried about putting too much more into it, lest she frighten him off with such a firm affixing of a relationship title on top of everything else he had to worry about. The last thing she could afford to do was jeopardize his position and his duties as a spy. But hadn’t she already made a fine mess of things when they quite literally made a mess of things together not long ago?_

_They looked away from one another. An instant later, they turned back to look one another in the eyes, and said entirely by accident and in perfect unison, “I love you”. The pair of them were startled but delighted by the sudden declaration. Even Severus could not hold back his loving smile at this, and Petunia thought he’d probably not smiled as much in his whole life as he had smiled this evening. She wondered if she’d ever been this genuinely happy herself. She didn’t think she had._

_Petunia embraced him, and got on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Good luck tonight. I hope your friend’s new boy-toy doesn’t irritate you too much.”_

_“I hope for his sake that he doesn’t either. Goodnight Petunia. I’ll see you Thursday evening.” Severus pressed a final kiss against her forehead, and left her bedroom. The telltale crack of Apparition told her that he was gone. Petunia picked up his bomber jacket and hugged it to her chest._

“Alright, so, you and Severus - you’ve shagged, you’ve still _been_ shagging, and you’re leaving the relationship undefined and unofficial. But I have to say Tunes, it sounds rather official to me in its own way. Is there some reason why you can’t be? I mean I’m sure Lily will have a fit, but she’ll come around eventually. Can’t you at least tell her?”

He was fishing for information, and Petunia knew it. Much as she adored Remus, she couldn’t say anything else on the matter, and she was not going to confirm his belief that Severus was indeed a Death Eater. She believed Remus would keep it to himself, but she could not stake her partner’s safety on it, especially when she knew that Remus was fiercely loyal to his friends that still hated Severus.

“You can’t say a word to anyone Remus and I mean that. I’ll tell her when I’m ready.”

Remus nodded, all playfulness set aside as he looked at her soberly. “I won’t say anything then. You have my word. I’m glad you trusted me enough to confide in me with something so important to you. It’s a bit of a relief really. Because I actually have something that I’ve wanted to confide in you for some time now, since I started to consider you a good friend.”

Curiosity piqued, Petunia reached over the table and patted his hand. “You can tell me absolutely anything. It’s only right, after everything I’ve confided in you. You have my sincerest word it will stay between you and I.”

His smile seemed a little strained, as though he was questioning his choices right now, but still he seemed heartened enough to continue. “Well for this, a few people already know. Most all of the Order does. All of my fellow Marauders do, as does Lily. And so I’m bringing you into the fold as it were.”

Petunia sat back in her chair, taking up her now-cold remnants of tea to have another sip. She gestured for him to continue. Remus sat back in his own chair, chewing up a little loose skin in the corner of his mouth and moving his head from side to side. Finally, he leaned forward again.

“Have any of the others said anything to you about why my nickname is Moony?”

She’d never questioned it before she realized. She knew they called James “Prongs” because he could turn himself into a stag somehow, and Sirius “Padfoot” because he could turn into a huge dog. She had assumed Peter was “Wormtail” because he could turn into a mouse or rat or some other rodent. But she’d never known whether Remus could turn himself into a nocturnal creature, or if the nickname came from something else, some old inside joke or prank from school. She shook her head no.

Remus nodded slowly, and rested his chin atop his hand as he met her eyes.

“Tell me Petunia; what do you know about werewolves?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Remus and Petunia trade secret for secret, and we know how Sev and Petunia's relationship has been doing! 
> 
> This was more of a filler chapter, admittedly. And I'm still mapping out a few more things before we get to the back half of 1979, which is very important for the events that are soon to follow. We're reaching the end of the middle, pushing us towards the 2nd half of our story. Thank you so much to everyone for sticking around and for all your feedback. I really appreciate it, and I'm so grateful for all of you! I never thought I'd get this far with this story but I'm glad I have. 
> 
> Updates will continue to be on the slower side of things as I try to figure how to get from here to the endgame that I've been planning since day one. Thanks again for your patience with that. 
> 
> Till next time, (in which...I genuinely have no bloody idea what happens next, maybe something with Death Eaters?),  
> -TR


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Mildly graphic description of canon-typical violence akin to events in Deathly Hallows. There is also one moment of something that can be considered BODY HORROR / GRAPHIC VIOLENCE in the final part of this chapter. PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS!

* * *

_8 th August, 1979 – Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, South West England_

Seated beside Narcissa on one of the many plush high-backed chairs of the long table in the grand dining room of Malfoy Manor, Severus watched as Lucius exchanged his final goodbyes with the last handful of remaining guests from the day. It was artful, he had to admit as he watched the blonde manage every facet of the conversation, and Severus wondered if he himself would have been able to act so convincingly somber and sorrowful at his own father’s funeral, had Tobias done him the favor of simply dropping dead before he ran the bastard off. He wondered in turn if anyone would even bother to show up, aside from perhaps the barkeep of the local pub in mourning of his greatest patron.

He exchanged a look with Narcissa as the minutes ticked by, and saw from her expression that she was just as bored waiting for her husband to finish his conversation as he was. At long last, handshakes were exchanged, and a house elf saw the remaining visitors out of the dining room. Lucius turned away from the door and immediately loosened his black lace cravat and unbuttoned his emerald green waistcoat. The blonde rolled his eyes, the feigned expression of sorrow dropping near instantly, replaced with thinly veiled contempt and a touch of boredom of his own.

“A spectacular performance, Lucius. Ironically I’m sure your father would have approved.” Severus quirked his lips in a smirk as Lucius bowed grandly.

“That would have been a first.” Lucius drawled, coming to sit down beside his wife. Narcissa lifted the black veil from over her face and removed the pins from her hair to remove it entirely, setting it on the table and taking her husband’s hand in her own gloved one with a small, amused smile.

The recent death of Abraxus Malfoy following a particularly nasty Dragon Pox season had drawn mourners from all over the upper-class of magical society in Europe, ranging from distant Malfoy cousins traveling in from France and Austria, to members of fellow pureblood English families like the Notts, Crabbes, Goyles, and even the Bulstrodes filing in to pay their respects to the powerful patriarch – or at the very least, to be _seen_ paying their respects. Severus knew firsthand from Lucius’ complaints in the past that he had not been close to his father, as much as he wanted to be in the man’s position as head of the family and Lord of the manor. While sharing Abraxus’ beliefs on blood purity and how the Wizarding world should be run, Lucius was less interested in political intrigue, and more interested in the power of reputation and living comfortably with uncontested control of his fortune and his image.

Severus himself had met the Malfoy family patriarch only a handful of times in passing as he had been in relative seclusion in his wing of the manor for several years now, and as a result had no real feeling one way or another regarding his passing. He could not say he had liked Abraxus Malfoy in any way, though perhaps he had some admiration for just how much influence the bitter, purist old man had, and on how he had used that influence to shape the modern-day Ministry from the shadows. Additionally, Abraxus’ long list of contacts in both high and low places had been instrumental not only in allowing Lucius uncontested access to key players to help further the Dark Lord’s cause, but in giving Severus a long list of people to be cautious of, should he find himself on the wrong side of a situation.

Lucius raised a crystal goblet from his place at the table, still half full of a dark green Goblin-made wine, and held it aloft. “Cheers and good riddance to the miserable old bastard.”

Severus raised his own goblet of water in turn. “Cheers to the new Lord of Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa raised hers, and the trio tapped their glasses together with a soft clink, each drinking deeply before settling into comfortable silence and their own thoughts.

Over the past near two years, Severus had found himself spending more time at Malfoy Manor, and more time with Lucius and Narcissa themselves. He saw them nearly as much if not more than he saw Petunia, and he knew exactly how much time he spent with Petunia - it was never enough time, he thought, though he had found himself staying with her more and more frequently.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to reconcile the feeling in the pit of his stomach every time Lucius took him into confidence about his real thoughts, or invited him over without any pre-existing arrangement or need to meet for their Lord’s activities. Severus knew that Lucius’ mentorship early on in his schooling at Hogwarts had been purely to recruit talent for Voldemort, and to continue to build his cadre of talented individuals of use to him, similar to what their old potions master had been so obviously attempting to do with his ridiculous Slug Club. As they had grown older, and they had both risen in favor with the Dark Lord, Lucius had brought Severus ever closer into the fold.

And the closeness did not stop at introductions to others or invitations to parties, nor did it stop with only Lucius himself. The more secrets that he was entrusted with by both Lucius and Narcissa, and the more he became an expected part of their celebrations and events, the more Severus acutely had that feeling in his gut – and he knew full well now that it was guilt. The Malfoys had – somehow – come to consider him more than a useful ally, but a genuine friend. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had many associates, many hangers-on who wanted to be as close to them as possible, and they were kept just close enough to have a taste of it while still being distant enough to gain nothing. But Severus was now self-sustained with his savings from his apprenticeship, and he obviously had no designs on being a high-society darling. He did not aspire to the level of wealth and fame that they had, and thus he had asked nothing of the Malfoys. And somehow that had made them more determined to give to him anyway.

And here he sat, in their dining room, the couple thinking that he was firmly on their side, that he shared their beliefs on blood and the natural order. And here he sat, the enemy at their dining table. Severus felt that familiar pang of guilt tear through his insides again as he wrestled with the dangerous idea that he too considered the Malfoys his friends, and the idea that they were by technicality enemies. The day could well come where he would either be discovered and die by Lucius’ hand, or where he would have to turn Lucius over to the Aurors himself. Loyalty was deeply important to him, and Severus now found his divided between the woman he loved and the side that she now symbolically stood for in his mind, and the people who had shown him kindness when no one else had, and had thus far only asked for his loyalty in return – but who stood for things that he could not in good faith abide.

“Are you alright, Severus?”

Narcissa was looking at him with concern, her other gloved hand resting on his forearm in a motherly gesture he saw her often use on Regulus when the teen was overly-agitated by something.

“I’m fine, Narcissa. Just mulling things over. Thinking of my own father I suppose.”

This drew Lucius attention as well, and he leaned forward to see around his wife. “Wishing he was joining mine in the grave, no doubt? If you ever want to track him down and show him what we do to Muggle bastards who would raise a hand to a Wizard…” he trailed off, the offer hanging in the open.

The guilt flared in Severus’ stomach again. In his own way, Lucius was trying to help. Severus appreciated the offer, and his hatred of Tobias made it very tempting indeed. But he was not that same bitter teenage brat any longer. In fact, he felt so much older than he truly was these days. He resolved to turn the conversation away from himself and back onto his older friend.

“A tempting offer, truly. But he’s likely already dead in a ditch somewhere, if there is any justice in the world. How are you planning on celebrating now that your father is out of the way?”

Lucius hummed thoughtfully, tapping his manicured nail against the side of his goblet. “I’m not entirely sure yet. I may begin my rounds calling upon some of my father’s allies within the Ministry, to strengthen our foothold, a victory tour of sorts. Or perhaps I’ll have a few new personal accessories commissioned. A new Death mask perhaps? A new family crest etching? And I could use a new cane. My father’s old one is so gaudy. But perhaps I’ll just enjoy my freedom for a few days first. What do you think we should do to celebrate, Cissa?”

Severus recognized the look on Lucius’ face – he had made it at Petunia often enough now. He found himself taking another drink of water and pretending he did not also then recognize the exact look on Narcissa’s face as one that Petunia also made when she was having thoughts of a baser nature and having a little game of it teasing him about it. He felt suddenly like a child in the room as his parents talked over his head, thinking he did not understand when in actuality he did. He did not begrudge the married couple their intimate affection – but that did not mean he wanted to hear about it.

“Luci, we have polite company over.” Narcissa made a show of being mildly scandalized, but batted her long lashes at her husband nonetheless. “We can discuss private celebrations later.”

Lucius was poised to answer her, eyebrow raised and lascivious look on his face, but the moment he opened his mouth he made a noise of discomfort and irritation, clenching his left fist. An instant later, Severus felt a burning pain bloom to life on his own left forearm as his Mark was activated too. There had not been any meeting planned for this evening, and there were no planned shows of power or rallies or anything else required of the Inner Circle that night, he knew that for certain.

Severus recalled to mind the short message from Petunia he had received from Dusty just days before, a short little letter that said she missed him, and that she had recently spoken to the head Auror, Alastor Moody. She had warned Severus in passing that the Auror department was planning harsher crackdowns on some suspected lesser Death Eaters sometime soon, and that he should be cautious. She also warned that there was a more concentrated effort to find and contain the leaks from within the Ministry, especially from within both the Auror and Unspeakable divisions of the DMLE and DOM. Would they have truly made their move now, with the way the war had been turning for them lately? He wondered too if perhaps the ever-increasing power of Barty Crouch Senior within the Ministry had a heavy part in how much faster – and how much fiercer – the Auror department had been working to combat the Dark Lord’s influence and followers in recent months.

Narcissa grew serious now, mouth drawn into a tight line and showing her genuine worry just before she managed to pull her features into a neutral expression. She stood from her chair and bent to press a kiss to her husband’s furrowed brow. Lucius patted her hand, face easing back into its own mask of calm before he too stood, tightening his cravat once more and nodding to Severus as he set his clothing back to rights.

“You boys go on to the parlor fireplace, I’ll have one of the elves fetch your robes and masks.”

Severus finished straightening his own dress robes, and bowed his head to his hostess in gratitude. “Good night, Narcissa. And thank you for your hospitality, as always.”

The pair of Death Eaters made their way without further word out of the dining room and towards the side parlor just down and off to the left from the main hall, where a fire was kept burning at all times by one of the many elves about the manor. The Malfoys were important enough to have their fireplace connected to outward travel in the public Floo access, while also keeping it private and inaccessible to anyone attempting to travel in without express permission from a Malfoy. It had started to become very useful to Severus in his frequent comings and goings.

Lucius strode immediately to the mantle, lifting the lid on a small bejeweled crystal pot that strongly resembled a sugar dish to Severus’ eye. He glanced over his shoulder at Severus. “Which exit point should we take? Borgin and Burkes?”

Severus mulled the suggestion over for a moment, then dismissed it with a soft shake of the head. “No, still too public. Too many eyes that could see us emerging there, should the Ministry have Aurors poking about the main walkways at Knockturn.”

“The White Wyvern, then. No public view, since it’s upstairs in the alley, it won’t be strange for a Malfoy to appear there on a random weekday evening, and we can make use of their private back room without being questioned. We can change and Apparate to continue on to the summons from there, and afterwards emerge again from the back room to establish our alibis.”

One of the house elves arrived a moment later carrying a bundle of two folded sets of black robes, and two Death masks. Lucius quickly shrank them down with a flick of his wand and dismissed the elf, pocketing the items in his trousers.

The detailing on the second mask in Lucius’ hand prior to the downsizing had caught Severus’ attention however and he asked impulsively, “Was that a lesser mask I saw, or a replica of mine?”

“As if I would allow you to appear beside me before our Lord looking less than your best? It’s a replica of yours. You’re here often enough that I thought it prudent to keep one, along with a duplicate of little Regulus’ as well, for just such an emergency summons.”

It was a smart idea, and showed far more foresight than Severus probably would have given Lucius credit for in years prior, and the genuine thoughtfulness of it – _especially_ from someone who was normally so self-centered - caused the earlier guilt to return and sharply twist his insides again.

Lucius reached into the jeweled dish, and then tossed a pinch of powder into the large fireplace. The flames roared and crackled emerald green, and after declaring his destination he was gone. Severus counted out a full minute to give him a head start, then tossed another pinch in himself. Hoping that he was doing so only literally, and not figuratively as well, he calmly declared his destination and stepped into the fire.

* * *

_8 th August, 1979 – Wool’s Orphanage, London Borough of Havering, East London, England _

Piercing screams of pain filled the darkened room where Severus and Lucius, along with a handful of others from the Inner Circle, knelt before their master with bowed heads. The screams had been echoing through the room around them for some time now, off and on as the Cruciatus Curse was cast, then released, then cast again.

Behind the Dark Lord, a masked Death Eater whom Severus recognized plain as day as Bellatrix was laughing as she cried out “Crucio!” with near-hysterical delight. The bound man suspended in mid-air before her jerked and writhed in agony, his screams turning hoarse after a time. Severus made no movement, numbing himself to the sounds of despair. He occluded, drawing the familiar shields around his mind, visualizing them now as shifting white fog, swirling and obscuring anything and everything in all directions, thick and cloud-like, leaving his mind blank to all but what was before him presently.

“Thanks to one of our youngest members, we have discovered this rat sent by the Auror department to investigate and identify more of our lower-ranked members.” Voldemort began, gesturing a pale hand towards the bound man behind him. “When we are through with this blood-traitor, he will make a fine meal for Nagini.” At his feet, his serpent uncoiled and began to slither with purpose towards the bound Auror.

 _“Crouch Junior has begun proving himself useful it seems.”_ Severus thought to himself. As ever, he found himself balanced on a razor’s edge. He knew that it was a highly dangerous situation for the entire Auror Department, having one of Voldemort’s most devoted so close to their leadership in a position to glean information. He also knew for a fact that several Aurors – including the Head Auror - were members of the Order as well. And anything that posed such a severe threat to the already vastly outnumbered Order of the Phoenix posed a direct threat to Lily and her idiot husband, and potentially to Petunia by extension. He longed to be rid of the Crouch problem now, before he could become an Enforcer and the male version of Bellatrix as he so clearly wanted to be. And yet Severus himself was forced to protect the younger Crouch’s identity and hide his involvement from the Order to avoid putting Regulus into harm’s way by association. He wished not for the first time that his younger friend had chosen a different romantic partner, as Crouch was proving more and more fanatical in his devotion to the Dark Lord, and more uneven in his temperament as time went on. Severus himself had become more attached to Regulus as the months rolled on, protective of him in a way he imagined he might have been to a younger brother if his parents had ever had another child. He did not wish for him to be hurt, either by having his heart broken or being struck down in battle. Once again he felt guilt weigh on him, as he willingly deceived his young friend who still believed in the sentiments of the Dark Lord’s desires for a pureblood world order without knowing the true extent of the means they took to achieve it. If there was to be a path out of the Death Eaters, and a chance at a life beyond the end of the war, Severus needed to open Regulus’ eyes to the reality of it all somehow before it was too late.

“Lucius.”

Beside him, Severus could feel Lucius tense as he raised his head. “Yes, my Lord?”

“You will use your newly gained influence and begin making use of your late father’s contacts. You will gather information from our allies within the Ministry and you will report anything useful to me. I am relying on you to further our reach. Do not disappoint me.”

“I will not, my Lord. I will begin immediately.”

Voldemort nodded, and Severus felt some of the tension ebb away from the blonde. It seemed to him that while Lucius too believed wholeheartedly in Voldemort’s new world order, he was still terrified of the man himself – and rightly so.

“Rowle, Jerome, Rosier – double your efforts. Gather your friends and begin making a stronger example of the Mudbloods and traitors you so often hunt in the night. If Dumbledore and his little toys are making a statement, then we shall send a reply. Yaxley, Dolohov – coordinate with Greyback. It is time to use the wolves and giants to our advantage and press forward.”

It still amused Severus in a twisted way, noting who the Dark Lord addressed by first name, and who he addressed by last name. Even within the inner circle, there was a clear hierarchy. He knew where he stood, even before Voldemort spoke his name next.

“Severus. You will assist Bellatrix in the interrogation of Nagini’s dinner. Be sure we have gained all useful information from him before Nagini feeds.”

Keeping the disgust and displeasure out of his mind at the prospect of working with Bellatrix, Severus nodded to him. “Yes, my Lord.”

“The rest of you, to your tasks. You are dismissed.”

The Dark Lord walked out of the room, Nagini slithering behind in his wake as Severus stood along with the other members of the Inner Circle. As several of them Disapparated away, Lucius put a hand on Severus’ shoulder and leaned in to speak over the renewed screams of the captured Auror.

“I’ll hold for you at the Wyvern. Meet with me there when you are finished.”

Severus nodded, and Lucius was gone a moment later. Turning back to face Bellatrix and the prisoner again, he steeled himself for the next few hours. Parts of this evening would need to be in his next official work-related letter to Petunia. He did not fancy the idea of telling her he tortured and mind-broke and watched an Auror die. He turned his mind away from the idea; he would have plenty of time to have a breakdown over it later, when he was violently sick in his bedroom and grappling with his actions, just like he did every time he had to do something like this.

“I don’t know why I need your help for this, half-breed.” Bellatrix removed her mask and pouted – sneered, really in his opinion - making a slashing gesture with her wand and sending the twitching Auror to the ground in a heap of twisted and shivering limbs.

“Because the Dark Lord deemed it necessary, Bellatrix. You may question his word, if you wish.”

Severus was pleased to see that this had an effect on the woman and actually shut her up for a moment. She narrowed her eyes to him before putting her mask back in place. “Hurry up and get on with it, so we can get this over with and I don’t have to be in your presence more than necessary.”

“With pleasure.”

He knelt down before the twitching man and took him by the chin, looking into his eyes through the slits in his mask and trying to not think of it, keeping his eyes from flicking down to the badge on his chest, to avoid looking for a name. He had to keep the human side of this out, or he would be undone. As he looked into the man’s eyes, he still saw defiance even now, mingled with his fear. He could only hope that he found the information he wanted quickly, and could put him out of his misery before Bellatrix had more opportunity to toy with him. With a silent, wandless _Legilimens_ , he began his work.

* * *

_26 th August, 1979 – Cokeworth, the Midlands, England_

“You’re going to lose a finger like that, my dearest.” Eileen chided, stirring Severus from his wandering thoughts and stopping him just short of cutting the tip of his left index finger. She took the small kitchen knife out of his hands and nudged him away from the counter with her bony hip, taking over on chopping the shallots on the wooden board herself. “What’s troubling you these days? Did you have a falling out with the Malfoy boy? You haven’t been to see him lately.”

Severus mustered up a small and bashful half smile for his mother, and went to the ice box to pull down the frozen chicken for their soup, setting it on the other counter beside the stove. “No mum, he’s just been very busy since his father passed is all. He has a good deal to do, affairs to put in order.”

“Then what’s got you so out of sorts this time?” She turned to look up at her son, shaking her head. “You’re drifting around as grim as the Bloody Baron.”

He wanted to tell her everything then and there; bare his Dark Mark to her and bare the sins on his soul, and afterwards lay his head on her lap and cry as he had done when he was a very small child and some small-scale injustice in the world had set him to tears. He could do nothing of the sort, and it hurt him to know it. Still, there was a way he could tell her a small part of the truth. “It’s just the state of things, mum. That’s all. Each day the Prophet reports on more bad news. It’s becoming upsetting.”

Eileen lay down the knife on the cutting board softly, scooping the chopped shallots into her thin hands and carrying them to the large stockpot on the stove. Once they were dropped in, she wiped her hands on her faded navy-blue apron and took her son’s hands in her own.

“It is upsetting. I have no great love for Muggles myself after how disastrous my marriage turned out to be, and I am still displeased at welcoming Muggleborns so readily into our world with open arms after their kind has oppressed us for centuries. But whatever I may think of them, they do not deserve torture and death. I do not agree with the extremist ways of this madman. He’s not got a fraction of the charisma or the skill of Grindelwald, and Grindelwald at least started with noble intentions. But you needn’t concern yourself with those affairs, my dearest. You are destined for far greater things in your life and shouldn’t worry yourself so with this supposed “Wizarding War” they are claiming is raging.”

Severus wanted to take comfort in his mother’s very naïve and closed-minded though well-intentioned words, but he could not. He knew the war that raged firsthand, he stood on both sides of its frontlines, and he had to spend a good deal of time with the “madman” that Eileen had so casually dismissed. It was humorous still, imagining the absurdity of Eileen coming face to face with the Dark Lord, only to raise an eyebrow and purse her lips and declare him lacking in charisma or skill. It was the sort of thing he might expect Petunia to do. Much as he sought to avoid comparing Petunia to his mother in any way, he did notice several similarities between the two women and it amused him greatly.

“You’re right mum. I’m sorry I’ve been absent minded as of late. I’ll do better.”

What he truly meant was that he would try to do better at Occluding around her to keep her from worrying about _his_ worrying.

Eileen squeezed his hands, then let them go to busy herself again with the preparation of the soup. “I’m sure that you will. I’ve also been meaning to ask if you plan on taking the subject mastery examinations this coming winter. You’ve qualified for the Potions mastery with your N.E.W.T. scores and apprenticeship, haven’t you?”

“I…actually think that I have, yes. I just hadn’t given any thought to the mastery exam.”

Shrinking slightly under another raised eyebrow from his mother, Severus shrugged his shoulders inelegantly. Eileen huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

“And why haven’t you? You don’t intend to carry on like this forever, do you? I love you my dearest but you’ll be twenty sooner than you realize and you should be stepping forward in your life. You can’t possibly want to live with your mum for the rest of your days. And at some point, I would hope you would want to go and find a place of your own. Then you can simply come to visit me from time to time, perhaps even with a grandchild or two in tow.”

“Oh, don’t you even start in on that!” Severus groaned, raising a hand to rest his face against his palm. He wished for a fleeting second that Eileen would go back to being the absent mother she was for so long, then immediately regretted even thinking it. Annoying though it may be, he was in some way grateful for her overbearing nature now.

“I’m merely thinking ahead, Sevvy. Something that you should be doing for yourself. At the least, you’ve no reason not to take the mastery exam. It can only help further your prospects and help get you out of this bloody town for good. I want that for you.”

He could feel the unspoken guilt and pain in her words. Severus did not need to be a Legilimens to know Eileen was doubtless thinking of her own missed opportunities. Aside from a few awards and paper clippings that she saved in a special box only unlockable with magic, Severus did not know much about his mother’s youth beyond her award-winning Gobstones days, and her talent for defensive magic. He wondered what she would have gone on to do, and if she had ever regretted settling down with Tobias – however _that_ had happened - or giving birth to him in turn. Severus was curious, but he did not wish to dredge the depths of his mother’s pain. All that he could do was attempt to assuage her old guilt, and allay her very recent fears. If he survived the war, he wanted to make something of himself for the both of them. And, he confessed to himself, for Petunia as well.

Even now, months after they had first fallen into bed together, he did not know what he and Petunia were. Both of them were afraid to affix a label to it, it seemed. For his part, Severus did not wish to tie her down with one, should the worst happen and he become a casualty of the war. He reasoned that it would be far easier for her to move on without one. Besides that, he was afraid to label it in his own mind for the very simple reason that everything he became attached to was lost eventually. It was part of why he had been so worried for Regulus and for the Malfoys as of late, all three of them bearing the label of friend. Lily had once held the same label, and she was now a faded echo in his life. He still sought to protect her as his ultimate goal, both for what she once meant to him and for what she still meant to Petunia. But it was what Petunia meant to him that held Severus’ tongue from calling her _his._

He loved her, and he told her that he loved her whenever he could muster the courage to say it first, or whenever – more often – she whispered it to him in a quiet moment. Severus knew Petunia well enough by now to know that she was afraid to say it just as much as he. But she was far braver than she realized she was in general, and especially so in matters of the heart. Perhaps she was as afraid of losing something in the process, or just as afraid to be even more vulnerable with everything at stake.

“I’ll look at the exam application this upcoming week and see if I have time to still submit one before the deadline. Depending on the rigorousness of the exam I may want to hold till next year, but I will at least look into it. Alright, mum?”

Eileen nodded, relief in her eyes. “Alright. I’ll accept that.” Severus bent down to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, and she patted his face in return. “Now, to the subject of settling down-”

Exasperated, Severus sighed. Still, he welcomed the conversation with his mum as a distraction from the darker thoughts that he had been grappling with for the past few weeks. Knowing what was soon to follow, and the nightmares he’d been having related to it, any distraction was a good distraction. And so he braced himself for his mother’s lecture, turning thoughts of “work” away.

* * *

_9 th September, 1979 – British Ministry of Magic, Westminster, Central London, England_

An investigative Auror had now been missing for an entire month. The rest of the DMLE at large seemed hopeful for a rescue, treating the lack of a body as a sign for hope, a chance that their man could still turn up alive, just being held captive somewhere. It was beyond foolish, in Alastor’s opinion. After all his years in the department, he knew damn well that Auror Brandts was probably dead after the first week, if not the first night. What they were running now was more than likely a recovery, and the majority of his Auror division knew it.

It was a risk that all investigative Aurors ran, especially so when nosing about for more information on known Wizarding thugs and terrorists. It had not been his decision to send Jonathan Brandts out solo to seek information on lesser Death Eaters, nor was it his decision to start cracking down more harshly on Death Eater activity when he did not believe that they had the information leaks from the Ministry under control. But Crouch had insisted, tired of the emboldened shows of power by Voldemort’s followers throughout the summer and eager to curry public favor and quiet the rising panic of the populace. Alastor had been the dissenting voice among the Order meeting months before, arguing with Dumbledore both openly and privately that they should hold a bit longer before shifting priorities, warning that he believed them to be making a grave tactical mistake. But he had been told calmly by the Headmaster that they had to begin somewhere, that risks must be taken and sacrifices surely must be made as well. Dumbledore had reminded him that they all knew the risk in what they were doing, and that it made the ragtag team of volunteers all the more special for their willingness to fight despite the odds and the potential tragic outcome. Alastor had still argued in favor of tightening security first on both ends, and had been overridden by both Crouch and Dumbledore.

And now an Auror under his watch had probably died, thanks to choices he did not have a hand in making. Yet he would be the one who would have to face the lad’s family when they ultimately declared him MIA. It was the story of his life – being left behind to pick up the pieces when someone else’s decision above him got someone hurt or worse. He had hoped that would change when he became the head of the Auror division, but he had found himself faced with the same issue. He wondered if the people in power above him had ever had to make a house call to tell someone that their loved one was not coming home. He wondered if they themselves had received that call.

An Auror was dead, and despite it not being his choices that caused it, he shouldered the blame all the same. For as unfeeling as he seemed outwardly, Alastor was in fact burdened by the opposite – he felt far too much. It was precisely why he tried to not allow himself to grow attached to people any longer. Living through a handful of tragedies was more than enough to cure him of that habit. Or it should have been, anyway. He’d still gone and gotten attached to the Order, and to several Aurors under his command. Still, he was careful to hold them at distance, lest they befall the fate that the two who had dared to love him – and the two that he had dared to love in return – had met.

Deciding to clear his head and stop his pointless brooding, he stood from his desk and walked out of his office, directly into the bullpen where the everyday investigative Aurors all worked in their own cubicles. Waving aside several flying memos as he passed and nodding in greeting when addressed he made his way down the hall, passing the shared offices of several Senior Investigative Auror partners, including the Longbottoms. He was halfway towards the second bullpen near the division entryway where the combat Aurors had their desks when a near breathless combat Auror came bursting into the doors and spotted him, drawing up to a stop and trying to compose himself.

“What are you galloping through here like a newborn unicorn foal for, Shacklebolt?” he barked. Only two years on the job and twenty-four years of age, Kingsley Shacklebolt had not joined fresh out of Hogwarts like the Longbottoms had, but had nonetheless qualified as an Auror with top marks at age twenty-two, was already very well regarded on the combat team, and was a likely candidate for promotion to investigations when the next round of qualifiers opened up. The man was usually noted for his calm disposition and nerves of steel, able to calm the most hysterical of victims with ease.

“Trying to find you, Sir. There’s been…there’s been an incident at Judge Crouch’s office and I was passing by when it happened and then sent to fetch you.” The man’s dark eyes were wide, still in disbelief at whatever it was he had seen and been sent to tell Alastor about.

Gripping his staff tighter in his fist and drawing his wand from its holding groove with the other hand, Alastor quickly gestured for Shacklebolt to lead the way, and fell into step beside him.

“Facts of the crime, Shackelbolt?”

The combat Auror nodded, further composing himself. He still looked like he was near-sick from whatever it was that had happened, but Alastor was pleased to see that the younger man was able to maintain his professionalism anyway. “There was a package that arrived addressed to Judge Crouch. No return information. According to what I could get out of his secretary – she’s still in hysterics, we had to stun her – it was delivered up from the mail room this morning along with the rest of the mail. The post clerks did all of the standard scans on it upon arrival, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Was it cursed, then? Charmed to befuddle the scanning spells?”

Shacklebolt nodded. “It must have been, but we’ll need to have an investigative team analyze the scene and the evidence first to find out why. And we should probably contact the public relations department. When the secretary began screaming, several others ran in to help as well, so I imagine we’ll need to do damage control. You know how fast word travels these days.”

Brow furrowing, Alastor turned to glance at him. “What the devil was in that damn box?”

Again, the younger Auror looked ill. “You had…you had better see for yourself, Sir.”

Dread dropped like a heavy stone in his gut as Alastor turned the corner towards the administrative suite for the Council of Magical Law, where Crouch still preferred to keep his judicial offices despite manning the DMLE as well. A crowd of people from several nearby departments filled the room, some sobbing, some murmuring to one another in fear.

“CLEAR OUT, NOW!” Alastor roared, stabbing at the marble floor with the tip of his staff. It took a few pointed and fierce glares to clear out the onlookers, but when the crowds finally cleared out, Alastor could see a pale and furious Barty Crouch Senior shaking with barely controlled rage. The unconscious secretary lay on the couch, tears still drying on her cheeks, mascara washed down her face, lipstick smeared. She looked as pale as Crouch, and Alastor could only imagine what caused the young woman to have such a violent reaction.

Sitting on her desk was a square box of medium size, wrapped in normal brown parcel paper, no tag or frill or decoration of any kind. Alastor could see the slight shimmer and haze of a stasis charm, likely preserving whatever lay inside the box. He looked from the box to Crouch.

“They’re all sick. Each and every one of them.” Crouch growled, grinding his teeth. His eyes were alight, fury in his every muscle, a vein bulging in his neck. He was deathly quiet when he spoke again. “This is beyond what we’ve seen before. Changes will be made. Immediately.”

Alastor took a few steps forward, wand raised, though he could only assume that whatever potential threat within had been neutralized already, with how many people had been standing around before. Cautiously, he leaned forward over the desk and looked inside the box.

He did not consider himself by any means to be weak of stomach or faint of heart. Alastor had been to one too many crime scenes, seen the after effect of duels to the death, seen horrendous illegal magical experiments go spectacularly wrong; for the first time in his career, he had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat, threatening to make even him vomit.

Sitting in the center of the box, facing upwards was the severed head of Investigative Auror Jonathan Brandts. His mouth hung open in a petrified scream, his eyes open and milky white, expression preserved in eternal horror and suffering. From the very minimal jut of his spinal cord and the clean and precise cut across his neck, it had been severed magically, to the level of perfection a butcher would praise. Beside his neck was Brandts’ Auror badge, a splash of blood the only true indication of the bloody mess that must have resulted from the decapitation.

Looking closer, unable to tear his eyes away, Alastor noticed the distinct pattern that the blood was splashed in across the gold front of the badge: it was the Dark Mark. There was no mistaking the symbol, the calling card of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. This was a deliberate statement. He leaned back, looking away and closing his eyes against the pain and the disgust.

For the first time since he met the man, Alastor found himself in total agreement with Crouch. Something needed to change, and it needed to change now. He had warned against direct action, but with this escalation, they no longer had time to establish the security measures and launch a widespread investigation into the source leak like he had wanted. If they did not take action in response, and rally around this, then they would be ruled by fear and divided; easy pickings for the Death Eaters.

“We’ll put out a reward for information. I will prepare a briefing.” Crouch had cooled some from his fury of moments before, his tone now glacial. “Auror Moody. I trust that I don’t have to stress the importance of finding out who did this. And finding out how they even knew about Auror Brandts’ brand new assignment, since there were only perhaps a dozen people privy to the information.”

There were a few that he could already rule out, but Alastor knew he didn’t want anyone on investigations helping with it. They all knew Brandts, and they would be too emotionally close to the case to be effective. “I’m going to oversee it personally with a small team. Starting now. Shacklebolt?”

“Yes, Sir?” the younger Auror stepped forward at attention.

“You’re on this case with me.”

Both Crouch and Shacklebolt immediately looked at Alastor in alarm.

“…Pardon, Sir? But I’m not even in investigations. I’m a combat Aur-”

“I’m well aware of your combat designation, Auror Shacklebolt, I’m the one who put you on the damn team. But because you’re on combat you had no prior knowledge of the Brandts assignment till after he went missing. You kept your calm even seeing this firsthand. And your work ethic already speaks for itself. I’m granting special designation for this case. You wanted to go for investigations on the next round, didn’t you?”

Swallowing hard, Shacklebolt turned from Alastor to Crouch, then back to Alastor again. “Well, yes. I did.”

Alastor grunted in approval. “Good. Then consider this part of your qualifying examination. I’ll notify Captain Pierce of your temporary special assignment. Now wake up Miss Bramblebush, and help her clean herself up. I doubt she’d want anyone else to see her in this state.”

Shacklebolt set immediately to work, casting an innervate on the secretary, and immediately taking her hand and speaking softly to soothe her.

A bit of heat was back in Crouch’s tone as he addressed his Head Auror. “Moody you cannot just go pulling people from different teams. We have protocols in place.”

“Did you not just say that things needed to change immediately, Crouch? That’s what I’m doing. I’m changing things. Immediately.”

The judge sighed heavily, thin shoulders heaving, mustache twitching as he clearly wanted to say more. He seemed to think better of it, and instead pointed his wand at the box on the desk, closing it back up and re-wrapping it. “Take your evidence out of my offices, Auror Moody. I will notify Minister Bagnold. She’ll no doubt wish to speak to Auror Brandts’ family in person.”

“She can talk to them after I do. He was under my command. It’s my responsibility to notify them.” Alastor raised his chin in defiance. There was a certain expectation when it came to the treatment of fallen Aurors, and he was not about to have a career politician interfere with it, nor was he about to have the Minister for Magic deliver condolences without softening the blow first. Millicent Bagnold was a good enough orator when she was scripting her speeches, but her Ravenclaw wit failed her spectacularly when it came to emotional matters.

Frustration radiated off of Crouch, who had never been able to corral Alastor into obeying him as he clearly was used to from his fellow Judges on the Wizengamot. It brought Alastor some small joy to be able to vex the man, despite working under him.

“Get to work, Moody.”

Crouch turned and strode into his office, slamming the door behind him in a rare outburst. Alastor picked up the box from the desk, holding it gently under one arm. After directing Shacklebolt to meet him in the Auror division when he was done speaking with Miss Bramblebush, he began his walk back to his office. Each step felt heavier than the last, a shadow growing over his mood as the cold reality of it all seeped in. They had been calling this a war for years now, but this pushed it officially into that territory. War was not without loss; he knew that well.

But now, returned to his grim mood from earlier, Alastor had the distinct feeling that this was merely the opening salvo. As he had thought during an Order meeting months before, he could not shake the idea that Brandts was only the first of many who would soon fall.

He could only hope that the people who had wormed their way into his heart in recent years would be among those left standing when the dust and ash finally settled.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I did say "something with Death Eaters"...kept my word on that at least. 
> 
> So sorry for being MIA myself for awhile - unfortunately as the pandemic rages on, more layoffs have happened in my company and one of my counterparts was recently let go. I'm glad to still be employed! But my workload just increased exponentially, leaving yours truly absolutely drained. Add the usual depression on top of that...well, you get the idea.
> 
> Thank you all as always for your comments and feedback - particularly special thanks to SlytherinTeam as well for unintentionally giving me the little nudge I needed to sit myself down and write this chapter. Thank you!
> 
> With this, we have officially hit the halfway point for the story I set out to tell. The war is taking a new turn, and darker times are ahead. I will strive as always to warn for upsetting or triggering content as clearly as possible as we make our way to our (hopefully worthwhile!) conclusion in 1981. 
> 
> So til next time (In which Petunia realizes she's made a rather large mistake),  
> -TR


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: None for this chapter.

* * *

_29 th September, 1979 – Hogsmeade Village, The Highlands, Scotland_

Between the start of his seventh and final year of school and his responsibilities to his mother and his family at large following his father’s death, it had been what felt like an eternity since Regulus had been able to spend time in Severus’ company, just the pair of them, without it having to do with the war effort. It had been longer still since Regulus could recall actually having fun while being out and about in Hogsmeade, without the looming dread of possibly encountering his older brother and the other three members of his little fan club. Yet here he was, quietly and contentedly walking down the middle of High Street with his best friend, sharing the remains of a large bag of jelly slugs from Honeydukes and feeling in very high spirits as the afternoon finally wound down.

The arrival of the Malfoy family owl delivering notice of Narcissa’s pregnancy just a few days before had sent the younger Black backwards off the bench at the Slytherin table at breakfast, clutching the stiff square of gold-embossed parchment with both hands and hollering out in delight. Rabastan had needed to help him back up, as he’d managed to tangle up his feet and his robes in the tablecloth and the bench, but Regulus had been too overcome with joy at the prospect of having a little baby nephew – cousin once removed he supposed it technically was, but he was going to have the baby call him Uncle Reggie, he had already decided - to think about the embarrassment he should probably have been feeling. For a fleeting moment he remembered his blood-traitor older cousin Andromeda, and the letter that had arrived to the Black family home at Grimmauld Place six or seven years ago to announce the birth of her half-blooded brat to her Mudblood husband. He could still hear his mother’s indignant screeching about the audacity of it all, and her insistence that the “little bitch” as she had branded the child was no great-niece of hers. Regulus could not even recall the child’s name, having only seen the letter once upon picking it up from where his mother had thrown it down before Sirius plucked it from his hands, where his mother then snatched it away once more to incinerate with a flick of her wand. That had been the end of it, and he had made no attempt to ask Narcissa about her disowned elder sister. There had simply been no reason to, and he was unsure why it had even crossed his mind now.

Pushing aside all thoughts of banished family members past, he’d skipped his first class of the day and practically sprinted back to the Slytherin dorms to write to Severus immediately after finishing his food, asking if he’d heard the news and if he’d like to go shopping for a gift together for Lucius and Narcissa. Severus’ reply had arrived shortly before lunch, a short note stating that he did indeed know, having been in the room when Narcissa came in brandishing the results of her pregnancy potion and also confessing that he had no idea what to do for the occasion of congratulating parents for a pregnancy, let alone for a pregnancy in a pureblood family. And so, through a few more same-day letter exchanges – courtesy of a very annoyed but very well-rewarded school owl - the pair had resolved to meet in the village for lunch during the upcoming Hogsmeade visit weekend to coordinate their efforts on finding a gift for the expecting mother.

“You’re certain that these are suitable, Regulus?” Severus asked, looking at the bag from Gladrag’s in his left hand as though it were due to explode at any moment.

Regulus swallowed the jelly slug in his mouth and smile patiently at him. “Yes Sev, I’m sure. Cissa will love the shawl and those front-tie blouses. She’ll need them when she starts nursing.” In reply, Severus made a low sound of consternation in the back of his throat, which set Regulus to laughter. “Oh, come ON! It’s natural, and they’re just breasts! How else is the baby supposed to eat?”

“I’m not disputing the necessity of _that_! I just don’t wish to discuss _Narcissa’s_ breasts!”

“Are you finally ready to tell me who’s breasts you DO want to discuss then? Or are you going to keep trying to leave me in the dark about it?” Regulus crossed his arms over and arched a brow at Severus, imitating the older man’s signature look. Since the spring, he had been absolutely positive that there was someone in Severus’ life causing the marked improvement in his social skills and overall dissipation of the usual gloomy cloud hovering about him.

Regulus watched Severus tense up immediately as though someone had cast _Petrificus Totalus_ upon him. For a long moment, Severus did not move. Growing concerned that he had offended or upset his friend, Regulus nudged him gently with his elbow. “Sev? I’m…I’m sorry, if I touched on a nerve. I wasn’t trying to mock you. I just wanted to draw you out about it, since you haven’t told me anything and I sort of guessed at what was going on.”

The apology drew Severus out of his sudden reverie at last, eliciting a small, wry smirk from him. “Have you ever actually apologized for anything before? I wasn’t sure you knew what that word meant.” 

“Forgive me for actually being concerned you prat! You worried me!”

“My apologies.” Severus dryly intoned, not sorry in the least.

Regulus drew himself up indignantly, ready and willing to lecture him further, but was cut off as Severus held up a hand to silence him and continued to speak.

“I can’t tell you everything about the situation. But I can tell you a small fraction of it. Is there someplace private we can go to converse?”

“We could go sit by the Shrieking Shack?” Regulus offered, only to watch Severus’ expression sour like a cat licking at something bitter. “Why the face? I don’t think it’s as haunted as everyone says.”

“Anywhere. Other. Than. That.” Severus bit out tersely, word by word, as though each was being shoved painfully through his gritted teeth by his tongue.

“Alright, alright! The tea shop then. By now most of the couples have gone back to the castle to snog somewhere and everyone else should be crammed into the Three Broomsticks. And no one will so much as blink if I show up to the tea shop in the company of an older man. Come on!” Regulus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along the street, fighting his hardest to not snicker at the scandalized expression on Severus’ face as his last statement finally registered. Before the older man could protest, Regulus had dragged him down the street to the front door of Madam Puddifoot’s.

“Is it too late to change my mind and sit by the Shrieking Shack instead?”

This time, Regulus could not stop his snickering. He gestured to the door, clearing his throat and waiting for Severus to be a gentleman and open it for him. Severus rolled his eyes but obliged him nonetheless, and hesitantly followed after Regulus as he stepped inside.

* * *

It was two cups and half a chocolate croissant later when Severus finally sighed in defeat under the constant and very insistent look that Regulus kept pressuring him with, and leaned forward with his elbows on the lace-covered edge of the small round table. He drew his ebony wand from the pocket within his robes and muttered “ _Tacet Mensam”_ to quite literally silence their table to the outside world, before setting his chin in his palm and casting a bored look across to Regulus. “Get on with it, then.”

Ever the trained gossip, Regulus knew the importance of caution with sensitive matters. He set his cup down and leaned forward as well, speaking quietly despite the silencing charms that Severus had cast around the perimeter. “So there _is_ someone you’re seeing then?”

Severus nodded just once to affirm. Having guessed it months before, Regulus was not surprised. Still, with that simple confirmation, a dozen other little questions popped up.

“Is it someone I would know? It can’t be anyone from school, right? Does anyone else know about her? What’s her name? She’s a pureblood, right? I mean she would have to be, right?”

“You would be a horrid spy, Regulus. Next time you have an interrogation, just ask one question – calmly – and wait for the answer before you rattle off several more.” Severus chided. He sat up straight, and glanced around the nearly deserted tea shop before starting to answer. “You wouldn’t know her, no. It’s not anyone from school. That’s all I can comfortably say about her.”

Now Regulus was further intrigued. He was well aware of how private Severus was in school – and for good reason, with his bullies ever in pursuit of him. But he had not seen any of the so-called Marauders since graduating over a year before, he was doing rather well for himself now, and he was fully of-age. In Regulus’ opinion, there was no reason to be so private about it when several others in the Dark Lord’s inner circle were now openly wed and some, like Lucius, were even having children.

“Why all the mystery? It’s just me. You know I can keep a secret.” He pouted a little, channeling everything he learned from Cissa about fishing for information. It would have little effect on Severus, more than likely. But he still gave it a try regardless, taking full advantage of his relatively good looks.

Severus merely let out a huff of breath in an almost-laugh, and shook his head at his younger friend. “I’m not your little Ravenclaw pet. That face won’t work on me and you know it.”

“You have to give me credit for at least trying, Sev.”

“What do you want, points for Slytherin for your prying efforts? I’m not your professor.”

Still, Regulus kept up the pouty face, knowing Severus would either grow annoyed with it or feel bad for him and give him more information. His persistence was rewarded after Severus ate another quarter of the croissant and finally divulged more information.

“She’s a little older than I am. And things are…complicated. With everything going on, and my **other** duties-” he fixed Regulus with a pointed stare, and Regulus was certain he understood what the older man meant by his other duties, “-I would prefer that she not be affiliated with me, should worst come to worst and I became entangled with anything legally.”

Regulus was smart enough to read between the lines. It was a very valid fear; if Severus was caught by the Ministry as several lesser Death Eaters had been, any lover of his would surely be next in line for the portkey straight to Azkaban for whatever she may know of his role in the Inner Circle. He found himself grateful once more that his own partner was also a Death Eater, and he did not have to make such decisions in his own romantic relationship.

“That’s understandable then. I’m sorry, Sev. When everything is all said and done I very much hope to meet her. She must be quite special to you, to get you acting all civilized these days. Should have known the day you showed up at the garden party dressed so sharp and waltzing with me!”

Severus shifted in his chair a little uncomfortably, and Regulus swore he almost saw the barest hint of a blush creeping across his friend’s usually sallow cheeks as he softly confessed “We’ve only had…romantic leanings I suppose you could call them? Since this January.”

The hesitation and the strangeness of the phrasing caught Regulus’ attention. “What do you mean romantic leanings? Are you going steady with one another or just tossing in the sheets together?”

“…we haven’t actually discussed actual…titles. But we are intimately involved.”

He wasn’t one to judge either way considering his own history with boys and his aversion to commitment in the past, but Regulus was rather keen on the idea of romance nowadays and knew that Severus was not the same sort of casual tart that he himself was just a year before.

“Do you love her, Sev? Does she love you back? That’s the part that matters most. Because I swear if she does anything to hurt you, I’ve got hexes on the ready that you’ve never even HEARD of.”

The softness in his dark eyes was so unlike the Severus that Regulus knew that it almost worried him. But it was still good to see his best friend smile and nod once more, declaring most assuredly “Yes. I love her very much, and she has expressed the same in return. Perhaps once I may have thought she intended to do me harm, to get me to lower my defenses to her. And perhaps I have lowered my defenses to her, and allowed myself a vulnerability in her presence that would be foolish in another’s. But I do not believe that she would ever cause me any harm. Your concern is touching though, Regulus. Thank you for looking out for my well-being.”

“You’re my best friend, of course I’m going to look out for you! I know you would do the same for me.” Regulus reached over to pat Severus’ hand and immediately steal the remaining quarter of his large chocolate croissant, popping it into his mouth in one bite. Mouth full, he smiled with closed lips. Severus did not smile back, but did not seem upset about the theft of his pastry. Rather, for a fleeting moment, Regulus could have sworn he saw intense guilt etched into Severus’ features. Before he could confirm it, the expression was gone and Severus once again wore his usual look of casual displeasure.

“As much as I will regret asking this, how is your relationship with Crouch faring?”

Regulus rolled his eyes at Severus’ clear dislike of Barty. “It’s fine, thank you.”

“Just fine? It seems that reaction was too automatic for everything to be “fine”, as if you’ve practiced it several times. Are you finally past your lover’s bliss phase and stumbling into the realities of a relationship now?” Severus tilted his head just slightly as he picked up his cup once more, raising it to his lips and holding it there without drinking, observing the Black heir carefully over the rim of it.

He had hoped somehow that Severus’ perceptiveness would fail him just once, but it had never occurred in all the time that he had known the older man and Regulus wondered if it ever would. He could have attempted to lie, but he knew well now of Severus’ abilities as a Legilimens. Though Regulus doubted his friend would ever use those abilities against him without permission, he felt that perhaps – contrary to his self-protective Slytherin nature – he should simply tell him the truth anyway, simply because he could trust him completely.

“Well it isn’t _bad_ per se. We’re just both very…busy…is all. He’s got a very rigorous course load this year and I’ve got six N.E.W.T. levels myself. Add Quidditch to that for me and his socializing with other houses to gather information and we rarely see one another when we’re not studying. Haven’t even been able to slip away for a quickie since school started.” He tried his best not to pout, but couldn’t quite manage it as he sighed. “I know it’s so trivial compared to what else is happening but still.”

To his surprise, Severus did not gently lecture him about focusing his attention, as Lucius would have done. Instead he drank deeply from his cup before addressing Regulus again.

“That’s more relatable than you would perhaps believe. I find myself often missing the company of my…partner you could call her. I spend as much time with her as I can but it is never enough.”

In days past, he might have teasingly retorted with an off-color joke at Severus’ expense. But there was a tenderness to the formerly ragged and bitter half-blood now, a smoothing of his rough edges, and it warmed something in Regulus to see. He was not used to such softness from the people around him aside from Narcissa and a handful of love-struck former conquests. Watching Severus turn more even-keeled and almost relaxed compared to the feral mess of a man he was on track to become had given Regulus no small measure of joy. So rather than retort in the more childish way he was likely known for, Regulus decided to be more like the of-age wizard he truly was now.

“When we win, we’ll have all the time we please for our loved ones, won’t we? And it will be safer for them. That’s what we’re working towards. It’s what I’M working towards anyway.”

He could not quite place the emotion in Severus’ coal-dark eyes this time. Severus softly set down his cup, and offered Regulus a small, measured smile.

“I hope that it will be safer for us all, by the end. Now come along. It’s getting late, and we should get you back to school before you run afoul of Filch again.”

“You get caught snogging in the halls ONE TIME and no one ever lets you live it down!”

Severus’ derisive scoffing sound and a shake of his head was the only reply that Regulus received. Without a further word, the older man was out of his chair and quickly out of the door, the bell tinkling in his wake. Slapping down two galleons for a generous tip, Regulus pushed out of his chair and quickly scrambled out the door himself. He was certain that with his long legs, Severus must be halfway back down the High Street by now. Just as he braced himself to run, he finally noticed the sound of a deep, rich chuckle and found Severus to be the source as he leaned against the brick wall of the shop next door.

“Were you upset that I left you behind? You’re pouting, Regulus.”

Regulus stared at him for a long moment before taking him by the elbow and forcing him to walk him like a gentleman. “I can’t believe you’ve actually learned what a joke is. You really ARE in love, aren’t you? And absolutely very frequently getting laid.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake – yes, Regulus! The answer to both is yes, you nosy little pest.”

There was no real edge to his tone however, and Regulus was once more in high spirits just as he had been earlier in the night, walking again in a heavy but highly companionable silence with his best friend. They remained silent the rest of the way back to the main gates and sprawling front lawns of the castle, leaving the young man to his thoughts. He knew his life would soon become even busier as exams neared, and that his role as a Death Eater would only grow as he graduated and was able to fully serve as much as Severus and Lucius and Rodolphus did. But for now, Regulus Black was able to put the worries of adulthood to the side, and enjoy one more carefree afternoon as a child.

* * *

_30 th October, 1979 – Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary, Knockturn Alley, Central London, England_

For about the fiftieth time since his mother had pressed the matter of him taking the official Ministry-proctored Subject Mastery Examinations for Potions, Severus debated the merits of shoving his head into the cauldron he was currently working over and ending it all in lieu of taking the bloody thing. He cast a wordless _Finite_ in the direction of the heavy book on the evolution of healing potions that had been hovering open on the shelf above the cauldron, sending it backwards to land with a satisfying thud. Stifling a yawn, he rubbed furiously at his tired eyes and rolled his bony shoulders back.

It was not that the subject matter of the exam was beyond him at all, and in fact he knew the practical portion would be simple no matter what they threw at him. But the tedium of studying for the lengthy written examination on top of the high volume of long-brew potion orders the shop had received ahead of the biggest wizarding holiday of the year had near melted his ability to process information. He was beyond relieved that this was the final day of it, and that soon after a month of frantic brewing and bottling and labeling and shipping, the rush would be over for at least another month before the holiday season began. He just had a handful of hours and one final wart-removal potion before him, and then tomorrow the shop would be closed in observance of Halloween. He was already looking forward to spending as much of the following day as possible doing absolutely nothing at all. Part of him was saddened a little that Petunia would be spending that evening at the Potter’s little Halloween gathering, so he could not make his way to her flat to keep her company. But another part of him was secretly glad for it, if only so he could spend more time sleeping.

On top of his civilian life, the Dark Lord had been keeping him quite busy as well, tasking Severus with brewing up various poisons for use against his enemies. He disliked knowing the harm it was causing, but it was a necessary evil in the most literal sense. And since he could not well brew toxic potions at work, nor at home where his mother could stumble upon it and ask questions, Severus had been spending days at a time in the relative privacy and safety of Malfoy Manor. He did not mind the couple’s company, which was deeply troubling in and of itself as more time went on. But it was Lucius and Narcissa’s most recent decision that had been slowly swirling through his mind for days, simmering like the potions he had been endlessly creating for the entirety of the month of October.

Though just under two months into her pregnancy, Narcissa had already entered a state of pre-partum euphoria that had swept up the entirety of her social circle within it. Severus was no exception to this, despite his clear discomfort with the subject. Nonetheless, Narcissa often sought him out for a second opinion whenever she and Lucius could not come to agreement on a particular detail, which was often. So when he emerged from his little brewing room off the library a week before and was immediately grabbed by the lady of the house, Severus was fully expecting to be drawn into another inane debate about the merits and complaints of French or Italian silk curtains for the nursery, or what shade of dark green velvet to trim the baby’s bassinet in. What he was not expecting was to be pulled over to sit on the couch, and – with Narcissa still clasping his hands in hers – to have Lucius put a hand on his shoulder and say “Severus, would you do the honors of being our child’s godfather?”.

He had been stunned, but had of course said yes – it would have been highly rude to decline. But the reality of it had yet to sink in until this morning, really. The thought that he would be in a position of influence in the life of a newborn child was unnerving, and a little nauseating if he were to be honest with himself. His only experience with children had been with his own peers, and that had turned out miserably. Aside from occasionally dealing with underclassmen at Hogwarts he had never been around even pre-teen children in any capacity. Even as a young child himself he had not spent time around other children aside from Lily, and Petunia by association, and that had not started up till around age nine. He was at a severe disadvantage with his lack of knowledge of the ways of youth beyond being bullied when he was in rare contact with Muggle children back in Cokeworth. Yet two of the most influential purebloods in the entirety of the United Kingdom were expecting him to be ready to step into a parental role, and he was unsure of how he would even begin to address the responsibility.

Severus doubted of course that anything would ever happen to both Lucius and Narcissa that would mandate he take the child into his care. Yet still, it was a duty that he knew he must prepare himself for. He wondered what role he would play in the child’s life as a secondary sort of parental figure; he wondered if he would even live long enough to see the child’s birth, though he told himself that line of thinking was just his standard existential dread coupling with the relatively high mortality rate he knew he truly had as a spy. It had been both flattering and dismaying that the Malfoys had deemed him worthy of holding a formal place in their unborn child’s life. His more recent musings had spun him into an endless cycle of guilt and doubt and acceptance and double-crossing that was difficult to break. Petunia had been doing her best to help him stay on task and keep his unruly emotions from overwhelming him, lest they disrupt his Occlumency efforts and put him in danger before the Dark Lord. But in his private moments with his guard down, he could not organize his thoughts so easily.

“Snape! Your ill-behaved owl is here and won’t hand off your damned letter so come and fetch it yourself!” Mr. Mulpepper’s gruff voice echoed into the back room. That he told Severus he had a letter at all showed how much the old man actually liked his apprentice; anyone else would likely have had their delivery destroyed and their owl hexed for its attitude.

Severus set his stirring rod down on the workbench and hung his apron on the hook beside the door as he made his way up front, where Dusty was sitting on the counter, flapping his wings indignantly at the shop owner. Mr. Mulpepper himself stood with his arms crossed, a stack of invoices from his second shop in Diagon Alley clutched half-crumpled in one fist as he glared at the bird.

It was not entirely uncommon for Severus to receive a letter here, depending on who was writing to him, though he was not expecting any return post right now. His latest report to Petunia for the Order was still siting unfinished on his bed at home, and he had not yet replied to Regulus’ latest letter either. Since the owl was most recently with Petunia, he had to assume it came from her. “Come here, Dusty.” He held a hand out for his owl, who immediately flew to him and pressed the letter into it. His suspicion that it was from Petunia was confirmed when he examined the envelope and recognized it as part of the pale yellow and purple floral stationary set he’d purchased for her birthday earlier in the year. The envelope was not addressed to him at all, which struck him as odd since Petunia was normally so particular about her writing. Dusty had come to seek him out at work instead of flying into his open window at home and leaving it for later. Additionally, Severus realized with growing dread in his gut, Dusty would not leave the envelope with Mr. Mulpepper, and had only released it into his hand. Something urgent must have happened, time-sensitive or critical information perhaps.

“I’m sorry, sir. It must be important for him to bring it directly to me during working hours. Excuse me a moment while I read this.”

The old man merely grunted and shooed him off as he set his invoices down and smoothed them over the dragon-hide cover of his large ledger on the desk. Severus watched with a bit of amusement as the old wizard stroked his white-streaked red beard and began looking around for a quill – likely not realizing that there was a quill tucked behind his left ear. Dusty swooped onto Severus’ shoulder as he crossed back through the stone archway into the brewing room, anxiously clenching and unclenching his talons as he shifted around.

Severus reached one hand up to stroke the owl’s feathers. “What has you so agitated, Dusty?” he mused, as the owl bumped his head into his hand. He withdrew his hand and slid one long finger under the lip of the envelop, carefully popping open the seal and trying to quiet his instincts telling him that something was deeply wrong with the entire situation. The letter within was short, and did nothing to soothe his rapidly rising anxiety.

_“Sev,_

_Need to tell you something in person urgently. Come as soon as you can._

_\- Petunia_

He swiftly stuffed the paper back into the envelope and tucked it into his robes, quelling his racing thoughts. Had it been truly dire or life threatening to someone important, she would have told him so. Still, it had to have been of great importance for her to instruct Dusty to seek him out immediately. She knew his obligations to the Wizarding world as well as he did; Petunia of all people would not tread so boldly into this very separate sphere of his life without very good reason.

It took only a handful of moments for Severus to lay a stasis charm over the potion and explain to Mr. Mulpepper that something important had come up at home that required him to leave immediately. To his surprise, Severus did not meet with any opposition or grousing from Mulpepper, just a warning that he had better arrive on time for his shift on the first of November. He gave his word and took his leave of the shop, with Dusty still perched tightly upon his shoulder.

“We’re going to have to Apparate, Dusty. I know you don’t care for it, but don’t flap about or let go of my shoulder, alright? I’d rather not lose you.”

The owl seemed to understand what Severus had said, if the feeling of talons digging through both his robes and his white button up shirt beneath was any indication. Severus winced as Dusty’s sharp talons just barely began piercing through into his skin while he walked further into a darkened corner of the Alley. After a look around to ensure that he was alone, he counted off to three for the bird’s benefit, and was off.

He arrived like always in the narrow space between Petunia’s building and the building just behind it, where the residents of either place often stored various larger bits of rubbish like broken furniture and discarded boxes and packages. Severus was still greatly amused that even in the supposedly posh and polished cultural and artistic hub of Bloomsbury, people still chucked their castoffs in the yard just like they did back home in the lifeless slum town of Cokeworth. He made his way to the end of the little pathway, looping around the corner of the building and down the sidewalk to the familiar steps of Petunia’s flat. There was a small flicker of magic that he felt trickle over his skin as he ascended the four steps and the wards accepted him, and with grudging respect he had to admit that Moody had done a good and proper job of it, though Severus was still highly irritated that he himself had not thought to ward Petunia’s flat. It took him a moment of fishing through his various pockets before he found the small, silver colored key he was searching for. He mused to himself that he could have easily just knocked, or let himself in magically, but since Petunia had given him a Muggle key for the place as a symbolic gesture, he found himself wanting to use it every time.

The moment he pushed the door open, Dusty was off and flying directly to his little nest atop the refrigerator, settling his ruffled feathers and immediately crunching on the treat that was beside it. Severus entered and closed the door behind him softly. From the kitchen, Petunia turned to look at him and simply stared. Her pale blue eyes were wide, shell-shocked almost. Worry flared to life in him again as he took in her appearance. Petunia was always so put together, as she enjoyed dressing up greatly; but right now she looked a little disheveled – but no less attractive for it to his eyes, he admitted privately.

“Petunia, what’s the matter?”

The blonde swallowed, running her tongue over her lips as though to wet them enough to speak. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. Severus came into the kitchen with her, taking her hands up from where they rest against the counter top behind her and pulling her gently to the dining table. He pulled the chair out for her and made her sit down, taking his seat across from her and taking up her hands once more. Whatever she had discovered, it seemed to have had a profound impact on her. “Petunia, I’m here now. What’s happened? What do you need to tell me?”

As if awakening from a daydream, Petunia shook her head, hair spilling over her shoulders. She almost never left it down like this, preferring to keep it in a tail more often than not unless they were engaged in other activities. He would have appreciated the sight of it a little more, and told her as much, were he not gravely concerned in that instant.

Petunia squeezed his hands tightly, and finally met his eyes.

* * *

_30 th October, 1979 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

For much of her life – both the previous one and the one she was currently living – Petunia Evans had thought herself to be fairly intelligent. In her current life, she knew she was an independent, free thinking, mostly modern woman. She worked, she tended her own house, and she maintained her own finances. She felt confident in herself, and confident in the good of the work she did to protect her sister and her newfound friends from within Lily’s magical world.

But Petunia had made a fairly large mistake. And the implications were terrifying her.

In hindsight, as she sat on the floor of the shower with hot water raining down upon her from above, she should have expected this for a variety of reasons; her own carelessness, the events of the timeline from which she had originally come, Severus’ lack of experience…the list went on.

She knew that she would be alright, in the end. No matter what the reactions of others may be, Petunia was secure enough in herself to know she would manage. There were bound to be raised eyebrows, whispered questions at work among the chattering girls who worked in the typist pool with her; she dreaded the very idea of facing Lily, who was soon to be quite busy herself, but that was an entirely separate issue Petunia would have to work out at a later time. She still had time, she assured herself. There was still time to plan, still time to figure out what she was going to do.

The first step was, of course, to summon Severus so they could talk face to face. She inhaled, and closed her eyes, counting to twenty and trying to enjoy the steam from the shower, the embrace of the warm water as she tilted her head back and let it flow over her body. The knot of anxiety in her chest eased away after another count to twenty, and finally Petunia was able to drag herself to her feet.

She shut the water off and emerged, wrapping herself in a soft sky-blue bath towel and looking anywhere but the rubbish bin, where the packaging had been discarded. She couldn’t put it off any longer. It had been an entire night and most of the day now, more than enough time to come to grips; time was never something that had been on her side.

Dressing had taken forever, her hands seemingly unable to follow the rather simple commands that her brain was trying to give them. She’d forgone underclothes entirely, pulling on a fitted blue tee and a comfortable pair of wide-legged navy-blue trousers that Remus had joked made her look like a sailor. Still half-dazed, Petunia ignored her still-damp hair and went to the living room.

The clock in the kitchen read just past four. Severus would be working still, she knew. She herself had called off work, claiming illness. And truly, she had felt ill at the time and was unable to remove herself from her bed. Trying to work would not have ended well in the slightest. Petunia knew she needed to get Severus here tonight, before she lost her nerve all over again.

Picking up her favorite pen and a piece of paper and envelop from the stationary that Severus had given her, she sat down and endeavored to write to him and ask that he join her that evening. Instead, she stared at the paper for several minutes before forcing herself to scribble out a short and very vague message. It was all she could manage to fold the paper in half and shove it into the envelop, sealing it with a sticker and summoning Dusty from the kitchen. 

“Take this straightaway to Severus. I know he’s likely working still. Go straight to him, and though I know you already know better, don’t let this letter anywhere but his hand, alright?”

The owl must have sensed her lingering distress from her urgent tone, for he landed upon her shoulder and rubbed his feathered head against her cheek in what seemed to be an effort to comfort her. Petunia affectionately rubbed his beak with her forefinger before holding up the envelope. Dusty hopped off of her shoulder and down to the couch, then took flight out of the kitchen window.

It was forty-seven anxious minutes later when Petunia heard the lock turn on the door. She went very still at the kitchen counter, having been trying to get everything situated for dinner – and burning two different fingers on the hot kettle in the process – when Dusty flew past her up to his nest.

Severus closed the door behind him as he entered the flat, looking around and spotting her in the kitchen. She could see the relief in his face, presumably upon seeing her unharmed after her very vague words in the summons. Petunia tried to say something, but she could only stare at him, eyes wide, as the implications of her discovery came slamming back to her at that moment. There was genuine love in his eyes, of that she was certain.

“Petunia? What’s the matter?”

The worry in his voice struck a raw, exposed part of her heart. He cared for her. He loved her, he had said as much and she had as well, though they were still hesitant to define it properly beyond that. Emotion choked her words, and she swallowed and licked her lips, trying to will her mouth to function. Her hands gripped at the counter top behind her as she felt anxiety snaking itself through her core.

Severus came into the kitchen and gently lifted her hands from the counter, pulling her towards the table and letting go to pull out the chair for her. He bid her to sit, and took his own chair across the table from her, plucking up her hands once more in his own. She could not meet his eyes, the tenderness there shaking her resolve. He already had so much to worry about, she knew that. She did not want to do this to him, to put even more upon his shoulders; she’d already pulled him into the life of a spy, the same role he had played before, the same role that had killed him in the end in another place. This was another distraction, another responsibility he did not need right now.

“Petunia, I’m here now. What’s happened? What do you need to tell me?”

She needed to tell him. This was every bit as important to him as it was to her, and he deserved to know. Petunia made up her mind that no matter what may happen in the future, she owed him this moment in the present. She squeezed his hands tightly, a tremble in her grip as she finally looked into his dark eyes and forced a small but confident smile on her face for a moment. It faltered almost immediately, but still she made herself press on as he nodded encouragingly.

“Sev…”

“Yes, Petunia?”

She looked away, but fought off the nerves and forced herself to meet his eyes again. This would be the last moment of this new life she had been given, at least as it had been lived up to this point. The last moment where Severus did not _know;_ the last moment before she dropped the knowledge of her discovery upon him. She had already tortured herself thinking of the various ways he could react, the things he could say; she had braced too for the possibility of this being the final moment of their still-unnamed relationship, though she had far more faith in him than that. Still, she had run through nearly every scenario since last night - and none of them could begin without her speaking it aloud.

“Severus, I’m…” she took a breath, and let it out in a rush as she finished, “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND BABY MAKES THREE! (Or rather, he will on June 23rd, 1980, to be technical about it.) While the unborn Evans/Prince baby is taking Dudley's place in this timeline, he is not actually going to be Dudley. But more on that another day.
> 
> Thanks for hanging on, everyone. I swear I will try to not take three weeks for the next update! Thank you to everyone as always for reading and for your lovely comments and feedback, I appreciate it so much more than you will ever know. 
> 
> Til next time (in which conversations are had, and even more shit hits the fan),  
> -TR


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Very slight mention of past child abuse and alcoholism. Very mild references, but please be cautious if you are sensitive to this!

* * *

_30 th October, 1979 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

In the moments that followed Petunia’s breathless rush of words there was silence; but all Severus could hear now was the sound of a turbulent sea, churning and crashing and spilling over all it could touch. He lost all sense of self, the world narrowing around him and ensconcing him in a thick and frothing darkness. Petunia’s trembling hands became the only physical anchor holding him in harbor, keeping him away from the full sweep of the emotional tide, from the rip and tear of the current of change that had just washed over them both. She squeezed his hands even tighter than she already had been – no small feat – and quietly spoke his name. Vaguely, Severus was aware of it and heard her steady voice, but he could not hold his head above this sort of water long enough to answer her. It took two more calls of his name before Severus stopped dissociating long enough to come back to himself, and he now realized that the crash of waves he had been hearing was actually the sound of his blood rushing to his head and the pounding of his heart in his chest. He felt dizzy, and grateful he was seated.

“…Are you still with me?” Petunia asked, almost timid as she loosened her grip on his hands.

Severus felt the impending loss of her touch immediately. Before she could pull away entirely, he chased after her hands with his own, firming up his hold and steadying himself again. He did not need to use his gifts in legilimency to recognize the fear that had been spreading in her eyes the longer he had been silent; even now, there was still uncertainty radiating off of her. He could tell just from the close way she held her body in her chair, the tilt of her chin downward, tucked defensively. He knew that pose intimately well from his youth; he hated to see it before him from her of all people. Her original words floated back into his mind again, like a spirit come to torment him. She was with child – HIS child. He was going to have a child? Severus started to slip away into his head again, almost set off in another deep spiral. Instead he shook his head and told himself firmly that he did not have the luxury of losing his wits now. Petunia needed him in this moment, perhaps more now than she ever had before. He repeated it to himself again and again – Petunia needed him. He had to force himself to be strong for that reason alone, to show her that she could still count on him to be there for her as he swore so much in the past that he would be. As she had said in the beginning, they were partners. She had opened her home and her heart and her bed to him – he refused to let her down here and now.

Still, he had so many questions currently swirling and twisting through his mind, heart beginning to thud again and the palms of his hands beginning to sweat as his emotions threatened once more to spiral out from under his control and take him under the waves in his mind. He took a breath and held it, counting off to twenty as Petunia had once advised him to do. It did wonders for her in staving off her anxiety attacks, and had proven its effectiveness once more. Finally, he was steady enough to speak.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I…don’t quite know where to begin. You’re absolutely certain? How…how far along are you? When did you find out? Does Dumbledore know? Or Moody?” he cursed himself under his breath; had he not just told Regulus just last month not to ask so many bloody questions at once when seeking information? He leveled his focus back just in time to see Petunia flick her eyes down to their joined hands, and back up to his face. The fear was still there, but it seemed to have been tempered at least a little as she unfolded herself just a bit, sitting straighter and no longer seeming so diminutive and lost in her seat. Severus sincerely hoped as he gave her an encouraging nod that she did not notice just how terrified he himself had been – and truthfully still was.

“I’m absolutely positive. I’m a few weeks late now, so I presume…probably about a month or so in? I feel so foolish for not putting two and two together sooner. I just assumed with all the stress lately that it had skipped itself and would go back to normal soon...” Petunia trailed off with a sigh, then set on to answer the rest of his jumbled mess of questions. “I just found out yesterday for certain. The headmaster does not know yet, and I absolutely have not written to Moody to tell him either. The man will have my head when he finds out that I not only shagged but am now pregnant by my “assigned informant” as he calls you. I think he specifically warned me against that very thing happening at one point so he’ll probably want to come down in person to dress me down over it.”

Severus could very well imagine the older man doing so, pacing back and forth through Petunia’s living room and furiously gesticulating with one arm as he was known to do, the Scottish burr in his voice growing increasingly more apparent as he addressed Petunia like one of his Aurors.

“You know, I ran through it while I was sitting in the shower earlier this morning and the timing of things lines up with my past perfectly.” Petunia sucked in her lower lip, digging her teeth into it for a moment. “I was actually pregnant with Dudley at this exact same time the last go ‘round.”

He had almost managed to completely forget about Petunia’s only child from her original lifetime. Bringing the boy up seemed deeply painful for her; Severus remembered the difficulty with which she had first recounted her tale to himself and the headmaster, the way her voice grew thick with emotion as she mentioned she left behind an adult son who had moved out and started a life of his own, a son that had, without meaning to do her any harm, left her with an empty house to finally confront an empty marriage to an empty headed man. And aside from the occasional mention of him in passing conversations though the long months Severus and Petunia had spent together, Petunia did not behave as though she had a child before at all. Severus remembered full well however that just the year before she still had made a miniature cake on what he knew would have been the boy’s birthday sometime in late June, and he had shared it with her and politely pretended not to notice her tears as she washed their dishes afterwards, and acted as though he had not heard the muttered “Happy birthday, Dudley” under her breath even over the water running in the sink. A loose thought struck Severus suddenly, and his tongue let fly before his brain could catch up to stay it.

“If it’s a boy we don’t have to name him Dudley again, do we?”

The moment he blurted out the question, Severus felt that it was a stupid thing to ask. The name of the unborn child was the absolute least of their damned problems right now, he scolded himself mentally. Petunia did not seem upset; she merely tilted her head just slightly to the left, a bemused smile playing upon her mouth. 

“No, absolutely not. It was Vernon’s choice the first time, and it would be strange in any case.”

They both made a small sound of amusement and lapsed into silence once again, staring at one another over the kitchen table as reality tried to slowly sink in. Severus felt that his attempt at processing the information was less mentally overwhelming this time, but soon enough the physical effects of his emotional whiplash caught up to him, and he felt his stomach lurch violently. His sweating hands clenched tightly to Petunia’s, still held within his own. She ran her thumbs over the back of his hands, across his knuckles in a familiar gesture that she had often used before to calm him down after a particularly gruesome report from his duties within the Inner Circle. He was going to be a father. Petunia was going to have _his child -_

“You’re keeping the child.”

“Of **course** I’m keeping the child, are you daft? What sort of question is that!?”

Her anger drew out his panic, his mouth going dry. Shaking his head furiously, Severus sought to soothe her now in return. “No, Petunia, you misunderstood! I’m not interrogating you about it, I know how you feel about children! I’m just…I’m surprised. Not that you would keep a child but that you would keep…that you would keep **_my_** child.” He pushed the words out of his emotion-tightened throat, feeling like he’d finally made it ashore, only to have swallowed handfuls of sand so soon after nearly drowning.

The hurt and righteous indignation immediately dropped from Petunia’s face, replaced swiftly with mild horror and what Severus perceived to be a pinch of pity. “Oh Sev…you think I wouldn’t want to? After everything that led up to this baby coming about? Why would you think something so awful - on second thought, don’t trouble yourself with answering, I know exactly why. But you have to know by now how I feel about you. And I especially don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks of you, wizard or otherwise.”

“What about your sister? Or your brother-in-law?”

Petunia inhaled sharply. “Alright admittedly I am extremely worried about how we’re going to explain this to them. Eventually. We’re not exactly in a position at the moment to go mailing out announcements of our baby. But I’m not going to show for a few more months so we still have a little more time before I have to come up with an explanation. But even then, at the end of it all, Lily hasn’t got to carry your child – I do. And much as I love my brother-in-law, James can sod right the hell off. He’s got even less of a say in things than Lily does and he can be more stubborn and more frustrating than her. He doesn’t know when to stop joking around. I’ve not forgotten nor forgiven what he put you through over the years, don’t think that I have. And I’ve half a mind at any given moment to use that as an excuse to brain him with his own broomstick over the awful things he’s done to you. And Sirius and Peter too, as much as I care for them now, they’re even less of my concern than James is.”

He tried to keep the very pleased smile off his face at the thought of Potter taking a face full of broom twigs courtesy of Petunia. And then he realized at once who she had not mentioned in her little list of people. Severus shook his head, still a little irritated that Petunia had somehow gone off and become best friends with Lupin of all people. But he supposed if anyone could, it would be her. The woman had a habit after all of befriending strange people, from the headmaster to the Head Auror, to Lupin and even to himself. And to hear Petunia tell it, the wolf was supposedly genuinely remorseful over his lack of action against Black and Potter during their torment of him in their school days. But until Lupin was groveling on his knees and begging Severus’ forgiveness, even Petunia’s assurances were not good enough for him – nor did Petunia’s friendship with Lupin mean that Severus had to accept or even acknowledge any apology that the wolf would surely try to splutter out the moment they were finally face to face once more. Still, it nagged on him enough to bid him to ask her about Lupin next.

“And what about your new pet werewolf? Don’t you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t care about Remus’ opinion on the matter either. For whatever its worth though, I do believe he’ll be supportive. I know you don’t care for him, because of what he was complicit in. And it’s not my place to tell you how to feel. I do want the two of you to come face to face sooner rather than later, just so that you can hear him out. Only you can decide if you want to forgive him or not, I won’t force you either way. But I would like to tell him about the baby and see what advice he has to offer.”

It was a fair statement, in his opinion, and Severus was again grateful that she was considerate to his feelings on it. He did not have to forgive or even accept Lupin, though he had to accept the wolf’s presence in Petunia’s – and his unborn child’s – life. It was a compromise he could live with.

“Alright, fine. I will speak to the wolf. Eventually. And since he already knows about my presence in your life, if you choose to tell him about our child, I support you. I trust your judgement.”

She nodded gratefully to him, smiling softly once more. “You know, you’re taking this so much better than I thought you would. I should have given you more credit and just written to you yesterday. It would have saved me a miserable, sleepless night.”

Despite outward appearances, Severus was most certainly not taking things very well at all. He still could scarcely fathom that he had impregnated a woman. He thought to himself far too late to be of any use that he should have just brewed a damn contraceptive potion from the start of their relations. The ingredients would have been only of moderate price and the brewing, while tricky, was certainly simple for someone of his skill. Another thought still ran through his mind, as he stared in the face of fatherhood and saw Tobias Snape sneering back at him – he had no idea how to be a proper father; only a very strong knowledge of how _not_ to be one.

“I have no idea how to do this.” He confessed at last, head bowing low. It was never easy for him to admit to not knowing something, especially now when the stakes were so very high. “My father was…” he trailed off, searching for words to adequately describe the man.

“A knob-end and a bastard?” Petunia supplied helpfully in a far lighter tone than he expected for one using such crude language. He rather liked it, coming from her.

“Something of that sort, yes. I have no idea how a father should really behave.”

“I can’t say that Vernon was much of one either. He cared for Dudley, but he was a terrible person and our son was spoiled and mean because of it. I’m not blameless, mind you. I had just as much a hand in it, spoiling him the way I did and being the bitch that I was – oh stop gaping at me, I’m allowed to curse! And it’s alright if I’m saying it about myself!”

Severus merely shook his head and chuckled at her. There was something refreshing in Petunia’s candidness, and it calmed him down once more, though his worry still remained.

“Personally, Sev? I think you’d be a good dad. You know exactly what a rubbish father is like, and you’re brilliant and excellent at reading emotions off of people. I can’t imagine you doing anything to cause our child distress, because you know what it feels like.”

“Knowing what not to do isn’t the same thing. But…I suppose you’re right, in part. I wouldn’t raise a hand or raise my voice to a child who doesn’t know any better.”

Severus swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise as memories started to drift up, of his father’s raised fist and raised voice at some small mistake or another he himself had made. He had thought he was past it, but the memories never truly stayed just memories. Petunia’s voice anchored him once more, again pulling him from the rising tide of his anxieties.

“You’ll be fine, Sev. I know you will. You know how it feels to have been mistreated. I can’t imagine you ever behaving that way. You’re not your father by any means. And even if you don’t quite know what to do or how to deal with children – you’re not alone. I’ve raised a child and…regrettably neglected another. I did many things wrong the first time around. I wasn’t a proper mother myself. But neither of us is alone in this. We can help each other get it right, for the little one’s sake.”

Petunia took one of her hands back from within his grasp and lay it gently on her stomach, looking down at it with a fond expression. There was a flutter in Severus’ chest at Petunia’s encouraging words, at the conviction within them and her faith in him, and at the simple but deep tenderness of the way she looked upon the place where their unborn child was newly forming. Fleetingly, he wondered if his own mother had ever looked down at her own stomach that way and imagined what he would turn out to be like back when she was carrying him all those years ago. His mind conjured up an imagined specter of a younger Eileen sitting at their old kitchen table - the one they’d had up till Severus was about six or seven, before his father broke it in a rage one drunken evening – running a long, thin hand across her swollen belly and talking in soft whispers to her unborn son.

And then the lingering afterimage of his mother burned into his mind and brought a flood of ice to his insides. He had not thought of that part at all - his mother didn’t know about any of this. And he could not keep this a secret forever, not from her. The woman had an uncanny knack for sniffing out this sort of thing. He had managed to keep his involvement with the Death Eaters a secret thus far, easily able to mask it as just his friendship with the Malfoys taking up so much of his free time. Severus was still gobsmacked that he’d managed to hide his romantic relationship with Petunia from Eileen as long as he had. But hiding a romantic partner was not the same as hiding a child – and his child deserved better than that. He did not want the baby to be a hidden family secret like a Muggle drama program, as though the child was something to be ashamed of. 

“Petunia. I have to tell my mum. She’s going to murder me.” He stated numbly, his newly freed hand raising to pinch the bridge of his hooked nose before he took to running it through his messy curtain of hair, grabbing at it harshly. “If she doesn’t strangle me with her bare hands the moment the words are out of my mouth, she’s going to poison my dinner, or something similar. I’m not going to live long enough to be a proper father. She’ll snuff me from existence the moment I tell her what I’ve done.”

The blonde seemed to slowly digest what Severus had said, her eyebrows raising incrementally till they were as high up her forehead as they could possibly go.

“I’m ashamed to admit it but I’d forgotten about your mother in all of this. Should we wait to tell her till I’m showing? Or should we tell her early and get it over with?”

“We?”

“Yes? Is there a problem with that?”

Severus finally released the death grip he had on his hair and set his free hand back on the table. “There’s a rather sizable problem, yes. She’s an old-class pureblood. She’s got a heavy amount of prejudice in her against Muggles still, even though she disagrees with Voldemort. I had intended to tell her alone. She gave me enough grief for my friendship with Lily because she was a Muggle-born. I worry about taking you to meet her and telling her that you’re a full-on Muggle and pregnant all in one go.”

“She does recall she married a Muggle, doesn’t she? And that you exist because of it?” Petunia replied tartly, lips pressing together again in an outward sign of her displeasure.

The gesture reminded Severus of his mother, and he realized not for the first time that Petunia and Eileen had several similarities of expression and mannerism. He wondered too at the fact that the two witches that Petunia reminded him of most were Eileen and Narcissa, and thought of what it said about his own taste in headstrong women of a certain aloof and dignified disposition.

“I’m half convinced my mother’s continued disdain for Muggles is exactly because of her failed marriage with my father. She’s been in Muggle society long enough now to know more about them, but my father soured both of us on Muggle society as a whole. I know it had that effect on me; I hated all Muggles by association, and hated myself for being half Muggle. I imagine mum did much the same, hating all Muggles because of the rubbish one she wed. We’ve not talked about it much. I don’t like to upset her. She’s only just started to get better recently.”

He left unsaid his fears of his mother returning to the bottle, of her losing the progress she had made and the independence she had fostered from both Tobias and alcohol. He just started to have a mother again, and for all his complaints about how overbearing she could be sometimes he was terrified of somehow setting her back on a spiral once more. Petunia seemed to pick up on the edge of distress about him, rubbing the back of his hand again.

“Has she ever told you anything about why she left wizarding society? Or about what happened to the rest of the family that disowned her after she married your father?”

“She’s not told me the entire story, just scattered pieces of it. I know that the Prince family supported Grindelwald and all his anti-Muggleborn rhetoric, and that they were quite vocal about it in public for years before and even after his downfall, when it was no longer fashionable or self-preserving to espouse blood purist ideology so openly. Various other public scandals and private affairs ran the family name from very high esteem to nearly nothing of repute by mum’s coming of age. My mother rejecting Wizarding society to run off with some Muggle man she met on holiday and married right after graduation from Hogwarts was likely the final blow. She had only a handful of cousins, and no siblings. The family was not highly sought for marriage any longer and they refused to inter-marry with “tainted blood” as they saw it, so there were already few remaining by that time. Mum was the last hope on that front. And now the only two who remain from the Prince bloodline are mum and myself.”

“And the baby.” Petunia reminded him gently.

The talk of bloodlines and lineage and his family life brought Severus back, and the reality of it began to sink in at long last. Petunia Evans was going to have his child. He was going to be a father.

“Yes. And the baby.”

The pair looked at one another over the table, eyes meeting and holding proper contact for the first time since the conversation began. Severus saw his own nerves and fears reflected in Petunia’s eyes. But then she smiled at him, and he saw his own hopes reflected there as well. His lips tugged up into a small but assured smile in return.

He was still reeling from the fact that the woman he impregnated did not seem upset or disgusted by the idea of bearing his child. In fact, aside from being obviously worried about the timing, and rightly so, Petunia almost seemed pleased by the prospect. Severus knew how much she missed her previous son. While their unborn child could not replace the child she’d had before, Severus had hopes that this new child could restore some of the joy that had been withheld from his partner before.

And though he would not dare to get his hopes up too much higher than they already were, well accustomed to his hopes being dashed by circumstance, Severus thought that perhaps this child - presuming he survived the war long enough to see his child into the world - would bring some of that same ever-elusive joy into his life as well.

“Let me speak to my mum first, at some point in the coming weeks. I would rather her get the initial explosive anger out of the way first, without you present. Once she’s calmed enough…we can go home and I’ll finally introduce you.”

“Alright. I don’t like it, but I’ll go along with it. I think we’ll have to tell her about your other job, eventually.” Petunia’s expression darkened. “We need to have a plan in place for the baby’s wellbeing and what he’ll be told, just in case something happens to you. Or to me.”

She did not have to say anything more. Severus had not forgotten Petunia’s harrowing but limited tale of the death of the Potters and the second coming of the Dark Lord. He had joined this fight with the aim of protecting the girl who had once been his best friend from meeting the same fate, and Petunia had set out with the same goal. But he knew she also sought to ensure a better life for the nephew she’d had to take in and mistreated and borderline abused, the boy yet unborn still in this time and place. More stray thought began to form from the haze still lingering in his mind.

“Your sister…she’s going to be with child soon too, isn’t she?”

“More than likely within the next week or two, though she won’t know it till near Christmas. I remember the letter she sent me, and the awful vase I sent her with my reply. Then there was the birth announcement after that and…nothing more. If the timing holds true, then baby Harry will be born about a month after our child. I’ll have to continue to play the fool about that for the time being.”

“You’re worried about us meeting the fate that befell your sister and brother-in-law, aren’t you?” he made it seem like a gentle inquiry, but Severus already knew the answer was yes before Petunia nodded to affirm.

“I can’t promise you that we won’t. False bravado in the face of danger is a Gryffindor trait. But you know what two of the less often talked about traits of a Slytherin are? Determination, and self-preservation. And I have more than my share of both. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that we can survive this war, and have a chance to raise our child.”

He was not sure where this sudden burst of confidence had come from, but Severus felt a strength surging through him now, pushing him forward. There would be time enough for him to still have a panic-induced nightmare tonight when he lay himself down to rest – and he was fairly confident he was going to have one – but here and now, he had a new incentive to dedicate himself to his own survival. Two incentives, he corrected himself as Petunia lifted his hand and pressed her lips to it.

“I’m still right behind you, as I’ve been from the start.”

Severus did not doubt that in the least. The silence returned, laying thick again for a beat. Petunia broke into it, pushing the somber atmosphere away.

“Help me finish up with fixing tea and dinner, would you? Nearly lost my fingers earlier trying to manage it alone.” She held up her burnt fingertips to show him as they stood and finally let go of one another’s hands, moving together to the counter and the stove.

Slowly but surely, they settled into the routine of it together. As much time as Severus spent here now, there was an air of domesticity and familiarity to it for them both. They passed the time mostly in silence, each with their own thoughts. He wondered what was running through Petunia’s mind, and if she was still grappling with the implications of their future as he was. They had still not put a firm label upon their relationship, but he knew the proper thing to do would be to marry her. Thoughts of his parents lingered like a sour aftertaste on his tongue and he brushed them aside. He did not want Petunia to think he was asking her hand only because of the child. Nor by the same design did he want their child to be born out of wedlock solely because of his own fear in asking the child’s mother to marry him. He wondered if it was too early even yet to be thinking of a thing like marriage. But as Petunia hummed what sounded like a Rolling Stones song and bustled about the kitchen around him, he easily saw himself spending the rest of his days in this same state, standing in her wake and watching the way she moved and flowed and brought life into the things around her. He loved her; of that he was certain.

He had spent too much time with Regulus, he thought to himself with a smirk. The boy’s overly-saccharine romanticism had finally seemed to rub off on him, making him imagine tidy houses and small raven-haired children running about underfoot. A short time ago, the idea would have alternately terrified or disturbed him. Even now, he felt foolish for envisioning it. He was swiftly pulled from his fantasy as Petunia pressed a kiss to his cheek, completely unbidden.

“Set the table would you, Sev? I need to carve up the chicken.”

He moved immediately to comply, opening the correct cabinet from instinct and pulling down the white and blue china plates he’d come to know she preferred to use for normal everyday meals. 

Glancing over his shoulder at her while he went for the cutlery drawer, Severus felt an almost out of body sensation as though he were watching someone else standing in his place. He knew he was smiling, and it felt like he should not have been. He felt good, and it was more terrifying than Petunia’s pregnancy reveal had been. Good things did not happen to him, hopes did not last, and happiness was not something he knew in more than small bursts. This moment was an amalgamation of contradictions, tossing out everything he had come to know and believe about himself before; if he were honest with himself, he had been struggling to temper his expectations of his life since that wonderful Christmas Eve where Petunia had first kissed him. Hope was a dangerous and tempting thing, and he feared what he may do in his desperation to hold onto it. Yet he clung to it now, letting it wash over him. He was in the eye of a mighty storm and he knew it well in his heart. Things were going too well, were too stable. He knew he should feel restless, and should be wondering when the calm would break and be on his guard.

For the first time – and what he dearly hoped would be the _only_ time in his life – Severus made the conscious decision to behave like a foolhardy Gryffindor. He would live in this moment, take every ounce of joy and hope he could from it, and worry about the consequences of his actions another day.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, Severus is right: he is absolutely in the eye of the storm right now. (and no offense to any Gryffindors out there, I am one myself!) 
> 
> You've no idea how excited I am to finally be to this point in the story! So dreadfully sorry for the short chapter, I decided last minute to split some things up so we'll get back to Petunia's POV in the next chapter. And expect more from Moody soon too! So many loose threads I have to try to pull together into a net now so it's going to be touch and go for a bit on the updates. I'll do my best to try to get out two per month, but it may be more like one every 3 weeks.
> 
> Thank you so much as always for sticking with me and taking the time to read and comment. I'm so appreciative of all of you! I'm behind on replying to comments right now, I know there's two in particular I REALLY want to respond to later today (honestly Aa, I can't thank you enough for our exchanges, I really do enjoy them and you've helped me more than you know!). 
> 
> Til next time (in which Petunia attends a very Potter Halloween party, and begins the hidden-baby-balancing act),  
> -TR


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: None really other than some mild drunken shenanigans. But if you are sensitive to drinking and partying please be cautious!

* * *

_31 st October, 1979 – Godric’s Hollow, Cornwall, South West England_

At just three hours into the evening’s festivities, Petunia felt she had already witnessed enough blackmail material on everyone in attendance to last the rest of her days. If she was more like the Petunia she used to be, she would have been savoring every juicy detail, ready to gossip about it the very next morning over the garden fence with her closest neighbors. As it stood now in this current lifetime of hers, she was just hoping that everyone in attendance would make it to the next morning without irreparably damaging the house, their reputations, or themselves.

It had already been a day of spur of the moment changes, quick adaptation, and close calls. She had originally intended to meet up with Remus and Sirius at their flat and then Side-Along to the Hollow with them, but her unborn baby had thrown a spectacular wrench into the whole plan. After dinner the night before, she had sat on the couch as Severus paced back and forth for nearly an hour debating with himself about the potential dangers of a pregnant woman traveling via Apparation as he bounced theoretical situations and questions off of her for her opinion. The child was a living being, though still developing, and both Petunia and Severus were terrified that if Remus pulled along Petunia without knowing of the child’s existence yet, he would splinch the baby. Petunia was not quite ready to tell Remus just yet about the unborn child, but she was also not about to put her precious baby in danger by pretending everything was ok and leaving it to magical meta-physics and chance.

They ultimately decided that Severus himself would Apparate her to the edge of the village, since he knew about the baby’s existence and would be quite consciously thinking of the child in order to pull it along with its mother to their destination. It was still slightly risky, but Petunia was confident in his ability and with what Severus had explained about how Apparition worked and the power of strong intention behind spellcasting, the logic seemed sound enough to be safe.

Remus had questioned her at first when she’d phoned him the very next afternoon – she was so grateful that Remus at least had insisted on having a telephone despite having magical means of communication, unlike Lily who relied entirely too much on owl post and Floo – but after assuring him she was fine and just wanted to spend a little bit more time with her “secret admirer” before they had to part for the holiday evening, Remus had merely teased her mildly and said he would still cover for her. He suggested that they meet up at the gate that led into the village square and walk down to the Potter’s cottage together. Grateful for her friend’s infinite understanding and his willingness to play along, Petunia thanked him profusely and promised to bake cupcakes for him over the weekend before hanging up to get done up for the party.

A few hours later Severus arrived and, using Petunia’s detailed description of Godric’s Hollow and a rough idea of the geographical location from an old beat up map he’d brought with him from home, got them to the wooded edge of the village entrance without incident. As promised, Remus arrived a few moments later and approached them with a cheerful wave and a neutral smile. Petunia felt Severus tense up beside her, and a glance to the side showed him square his shoulders and toss his head back like an unbroken horse before turning his finest sneer on Remus.

“Tunes. Snape – ah, wait; Prince now, isn’t it? My apologies.” Remus offered his hand to shake, his perfected air of casual detachment and a mild-mannered expression drawn tight around him as a sort of invisible shield, and Petunia watched Severus look down the edge of his hooked nose at the hand held before him. She cleared her throat and arched a brow at her partner, causing Severus to clench his jaw. She did not expect him to forgive and forget, especially not on the very first meeting in a few years. She had made that abundantly clear in their discussion the night before. But Severus had given her his word before they left her flat that he would remain perfectly civil with Remus if Remus was civil to him first, and Petunia knew that the look on her face was very likely what caused him to finally relent and take Remus’ hand in return for a brief and very tight shake. Severus had always been a man of his word, and she knew he trusted her judgement completely; but from the way that he was still glancing about occasionally at the tree line behind them, and past the little stone wall that marked the entrance of the village, Petunia could tell he was still half expecting the other three Marauders to pop out and start flinging hexes towards him at any moment. Finally, his disdainful gaze fell on Remus.

“Lupin.”

The two men released one another’s hand as quickly as possible. Severus put that same hand against the small of Petunia’s back, bracing himself more than her, but she appreciated the gesture regardless and took a fraction of a step closer to his side to enjoy his warmth and presence.

“Shall I bring her back home? Or would you rather that I escort her back here this evening for you to make the return trip with her instead? I don’t mind at all making the trip.” Remus asked.

“Petunia has already decided upon that. I will be here at precisely midnight, per her request. See to it that you do not make her late. She has work in the morning unlike some.”

Remus looked to Petunia for confirmation of his words, and she nodded in agreement.

“Alright then. I’ll have her here safe and sound at eleven fifty-nine. You have my word.”

“Which means nothing to me.”

Petunia sighed, but since their first encounter since school _was_ going so much better than she had hoped, she would not deny Severus his rightly deserved opportunity to vent. For his part, Remus at least took it in stride and did not seek to agitate Severus any further.

“I suppose that’s fair. I deserved at least that one. But well then, perhaps this will be a positive step in the right direction. Enjoy your evening!” Remus turned to offer his arm to Petunia with a cheery smile. “Shall we then, Tunes?”

She turned to Severus and stood on her toes to press a soft little kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you a little later. I love you. Go home and get some rest.”

The little flash of color that rushed into his cheeks was delightful to her, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Remus politely turn away and pretend not to notice the private moment between the pair of them. Severus muttered back that he loved her as well, and at last withdrew his hand from her back and walked towards the part of the woods from which they had arrived. Petunia felt a little twinge in her chest watching him leave, wishing for another world where things were better, and they could walk together openly to her sister’s home to celebrate together. She did not have long to brood before Remus’ voice cut into her wistful thoughts.

“That was positively tame for him. I admit I was expecting that to go far much worse than it did.” Remus dropped his façade and relaxed as Petunia turned back and looped her arm through his, the two of them setting off down the path and into the village square.

“He’s only cross when you cross him, Rem. It’s amazing isn’t it? When you’re decent to people instead of bullying them they typically don’t have reason to snarl and lash out at you.”

Remus seemed to catch her meaning, if the way he wilted a little under her acid-laced faux politeness was anything to go by. He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Yes. Fancy that.”

Her only response was a small “mhmm” and a light nudging in his ribs with her elbow.

They made the trek through the village in companionable silence, all the way down through the village square to the end of the main road to reach the Potter’s cottage tucked away to the side. They turned off the road just near the split of a narrow pathway which led up to the village’s historic old church and the graveyard beyond. The thought of the graveyard sent a small chill through Petunia as she recalled the graves that she had only visited once in her life. The chill continued to slither through her insides, dredging up the memories of standing at Lily’s grave with a bouquet of flowers trembling in her fist as Vernon waited at the local pub. She did not like the sensation, wondering why the chill felt so familiar and persistent, all encompassing. With great effort, she finally brushed it aside and told herself gently _“Lily and James aren’t buried there any longer. They are very much alive and very well right now and they are going to survive this time. Somehow.”_.

As they reached the edge of the Potter’s property line, Petunia could see a little shimmer of magic hazing the air like heat over asphalt, and felt a small ripple of energy pass over her skin as they walked through it and into the tidy front yard. She was proud of herself for knowing that the sensation she felt was her passage through the wards that protected the home, much like the wards that Moody had placed upon her own flat. She had asked about them once at a weekend stay-over with her sister and brother-in-law, and James had explained that the wards had been layered on thickly by various Potters, some older than his parents could even remember. The idea of ancient magics that James did not even know about laying as an invisible defense soothed Petunia’s ever-present worries for them a little bit, and had a similar effect on Severus when she told him about them as well.

The sound of Lily’s laughter carried on the wind from an opened window somewhere in the cottage, and in that moment Petunia’s lingering unease about everything else in the world stopped. If only for one night, she was hopeful that she could have a little fun with the group of friends she had been folded into and not worry about anything else looming over her life. The front door was already ajar, and Petunia unwound her arm from Remus’ and gently pushed it open. They stepped inside, and were immediately greeted by James.

“Well, well! If it isn’t Moony n’ Tunes! Took you long enough!” James set his pint glass down on the coffee table and stood up from the couch where he had been seated with Sirius, Marlene, and Lily, as Alice Longbottom sat on her husband’s lap in the armchair a few feet away and Peter was perched upon the ottoman nearby. He adjusted his crooked glasses, clapped Remus on the shoulder in greeting, and wrapped Petunia in a one-armed hug before kissing her cheek.

“That’s my fault.” Remus rubbed at the back of his neck apologetically. “I had something to do this afternoon so I just went to get Petunia afterwards instead of making her come to meet me.”

“Something to do, huh? Privately?” James waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Petunia rolled her eyes. James had not quite stopped trying to pair her and Remus together, though Lily had told him to let it go several times. Before she could tell him off, Sirius cut in.

“Well you know, he’s always coming and going without a word these days.”

The room went quiet around them, and Sirius’ grey eyes flicked up to stare Remus down. Everyone else was looking uneasily between the two men as Marlene hissed at Sirius to knock it off, and Petunia wondered what the devil she had missed. For once, Remus’ face hardened, and Petunia saw a coldness in him that was unfamiliar to her as he exhaled in a huff.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it bother you when someone else does it? At least I make a habit of telling you when I’ll be away for a few days rather than just stumbling into our flat with a hangover and another random pair of knickers as a trophy. I’ll try to be more considerate of your feelings next time.”

Petunia watched Sirius’ eyes narrow down nearly to slits, but under Marlene’s piercing stare he did not dare to escalate with another retort of his own. Instead, he wrapped an arm tight around the redhead, and sharply turned his face away from Remus. Remus shoved his fists into the pockets of his trousers and turned away to face Petunia. “Let’s go get you something to drink, shall we Tunes?”

“Yes please, I’m actually quite thirsty.” Wanting to help diffuse the situation and wildly curious about whatever private grievances her friends were rather publicly airing right now, Petunia took Remus by the arm and pulled him off to the nearby dining room and out the other side towards the kitchen.

The moment they entered the kitchen, Petunia looked over her shoulder as discretely as possible to be sure no one was listening in – a habit picked up from Severus – and leaned in close.

“What in the hell was _that_ all about?”

He gave her a funny look for a moment, seeming distracted suddenly by her close proximity. She took a half step back, and Remus shook his head and refocused quickly. “There’s been a little…trouble I suppose you could say. Some tension that’s been building up for some time now.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it. What’s going on?”

Remus looked sheepishly over at her. “I didn’t want to trouble you with it. It’s just Sirius being his usual selfish and thick self. He’s been behaving foolishly and he’s upset that he finally got a taste of his own medicine for once.”

“Did you go out and have a fling of your own and not tell me?!” Petunia demanded in a harsh whisper, her eyes wide at the very idea. She knew from several long and interesting conversations together that Remus was not the type for casual flings, largely because of his views on physical intimacy and trust in relationships. It didn’t help that his lycanthropy had conditioned him to keep people at a distance and only trust a small proven handful because of the horrible way wizarding society viewed werewolves, including his own father till he was bitten and became one. So she was quite relieved when he quickly shook his head no.

“Nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve been away quite a bit lately, and I won’t give him details. It’s not that I don’t want to, mind you. It’s that I can’t. I’ve told him several times its for the Order, but he’s nosy and he doesn’t like being told to mind his own business. Drives him out of his pretty little head.”

“Knowing him, I can only imagine. And what’s Marlene said about it?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he went to the food and drink laden kitchen table and plucked up a bottle of rum and a can of cola. “She’s on my side about it, told him to let me be. Everyone’s got different orders right now anyway, what with the information leak and the trouble at the ministry and all. But you know Sirius. Once he’s convinced of something, he really only listens to himself.”

The frustration and fatigue on Remus’ face was enough to set Petunia off, filling her with indignance on his behalf. “What’s he convinced of though? He’s got to know how you feel about sleeping around by now. He can’t think you’re seeing someone else, can he? And even if you were, how could he be upset with you when you have your arrangement, and with him seeing Marlene still too!”

Remus poured a good measure of rum on top of the cola in his glass, not bothering to mix them or even add ice as he took a large sip straight away. “He’s upset that I hold him accountable and have called him out for his double standards. And while I love Marlene with all my heart, I truly do – she put up a tough front and played hard to get all through school, but she's actually quite soft on him, and lets him get away with a fair amount of nonsense. Truthfully…I was too, for a long time. But I’m trying to make up for my mistakes and be an adult now, while Sirius seems content to want to stay in the glory of our school years, where he and James had free reign and were adored by almost everyone.”

A slight thud of a chair being bumped into from the direction of the dining room caused both Remus and Petunia to jump, having let their guards down in the minutes they had been talking. Standing in the doorway was Peter, wringing his hands and looking ready to bolt at any moment. He gave an apologetic smile and a weak chuckle, before clearing his throat.

“S-sorry! Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, Peter.” Petunia put on her best cover-up smile and patted Remus’ arm.

“Oh good! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I was just worried about Moony, after…you know…that. In the living room.” Peter looked down at his shoes a moment, the hangdog expression on his face almost comical when paired with his slightly chubby, rounded face.

“I’m alright. You know how he can be sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” Remus took another swig of his drink, giving his friend a grateful smile as he held the glass towards him as though in toast. “But thank you for checking in on me. I appreciate it. You’re a true friend, Wormtail. Really.”

At Remus’ thanks, Peter brightened up and smiled. His normally watery eyes glistened with moisture and for a moment Petunia thought that the man may actually cry. “Of course! I don’t like to see you two not getting along is all. None of us do. Are you going to talk things out with him later?”

“I will, but maybe not tonight. It’s a holiday, we should be celebrating tonight. As it is, I should apologize to Lily and James. The party’s just getting started and I’ve gone and made a scene.”

“You did no such thing. Not by Evans family standards anyway.” Petunia put in, finally taking a cola for herself but shaking her head as Remus gestured to the rum bottle again. “Trust me when I say that Lily has dealt with and been in the middle of much worse scenes than that.”

A loud commotion from the front room drew everyone’s attention now, a chorus of cheers and whoops and banging on furniture that reminded Petunia of a football match getting ready to begin.

“Sounds like Benjy and the Prewett twins are finally here. Hope Lily’s been keeping up on her Reparos…” Remus sighed dramatically, shaking his head like a disapproving family matron.

“I thought Benjy was off in Cardiff gathering information?” Peter tilted his head, looking curious.

“He was, but he just got pulled back by Dumbledore a few days ago, something about Death Eaters starting to get wise to his inquiries around the town he was in.” Remus explained, setting his now-empty glass down. “I am probably going to regret drinking that so fast by the end of the night but…we’ll find out. We should get to the others before they come looking for us. C’mon!”

Petunia allowed Remus to shepherd her and Peter out of the kitchen, back into the living room where someone had finally pulled out Lily’s record player and started up some music. Sirius paid them no mind as they came back into the room, already engaged in conversation with Gideon and Fabian Prewett about something. Marlene and Alice were laughing about something that Lily had said, and Petunia saw her sister wave to her, inviting her over. She turned back to Remus, silently asking him with her expression if he would be alright on his own. Remus gave her a soft smile and an encouraging wink, then draped an arm around Peter and steered him over to the couch where James was having a spirited conversation with Benjy Fenwick and Frank Longbottom that probably involved Quidditch if James’ hand gestures were an indication.

Still, despite the happy faces around her, Petunia could not help but feel a little uneasy as she crossed the room to join her sister and her friends. She told herself that it was nothing more than her general anxiety and missing Severus’ presence, and set to putting it out of mind for the time being.

In the hours that followed, as the drinks continued to pour and her fellow party goers began to grow ever more raucous, Petunia’s anxiety returned in a rush. She wondered briefly if this was the night that her sister was going to conceive her nephew, as a tipsy and giggling Lily grabbed James in the middle of whatever drinking game they were playing, and pulled him into a fierce kiss that was met with cheers. The thought of her little sister having intercourse was enough to make her remove herself from the room right then and there, seeking a little shelter from the perfect storm that was brewing up.

It was a little bit later on - while watching from her self-designated safety point on the Potter’s couch as Sirius chugged down yet another bottle of beer in a competition of speed drinking against Frank in the adjacent parlor - when Petunia was joined once again by a now slightly tipsy Remus and an extraordinarily tipsy Peter.

“Room’s still spinning, Moony...oooh the walls are all melty now, lookit!” Peter warbled with a small burp at the end as he pointed to the opposite wall near the door. Petunia slowly turned to face the two men, and Remus grinned apologetically at his friend as he sat Peter down on the furthest cushion away from her and leaned him against the arm of the couch.

“This is precisely why you shouldn’t drink anything Prongs puts in your hands, Wormtail. You know better than that. Now close your eyes and count to thirty, you’ll be right as rain.” Remus patted the shorter man’s knee before seating himself on the center cushion, turning to face Petunia. “How are you holding up, Tunes? Those brutes didn’t scare you out of the dining room, did they?”

“No, I just didn’t want to be in the room when Lily figures out the Prewett twins put their enormous footprints on her ceiling earlier.”

Remus chuckled, leaning his head on the back of the couch. “Oh, but it’ll be magnificent to watch. She’s picked up some impressive jinxes over the years. Want me to fetch you a drink then at least, before Jim and Frank start their next round? I don’t think I’ve seen you with anything stronger than a can of Coke all night. I can mix you something if you’d like?”

“NO!” she blurted in a panic as she thought of her unborn baby, fighting the urge to clutch at her stomach protectively. Her knee-jerk reaction to the offer drew a raised eyebrow from Remus, and she cleared her throat and tried to calm herself down. “No thank you. I would rather not. I get the most dreadful hangovers.”

It was a blatant lie - she could hold her alcohol quite well and Remus was aware of that by now; he looked her over, curiosity in his expression. He leaned a little closer, and took a small sniff of the air around her. Petunia was curious now, as she watched Remus press his nose flush against her shoulder, and sniff at her directly this time. And then he did it again, sniffing at her like a puppy seeking a treat.

“What the devil are you up to?” she asked finally, swatting at his head and tousling his sandy hair even further. Remus sniffed once more, went very still a moment, and finally sat upright and stared at her. Petunia noted a hint of amber in his green eyes just around the edges. “Remus are you-”

“Full moon’s in three days.”

She didn’t have to ask for clarity on that at least; the nearer the full moon, the more the inner wolf started to come to the forefront. One of the first things Remus had told her about his lycanthropy was how it seemed to enhance his natural senses as his transformations drew near, helping him to smell and see better and granting a hint of extra physical strength. According to him, it was the only positive effect of the condition and was largely useless to him aside from the last three or four nights leading up to the full moon. Still, though she gathered his meaning Petunia could not figure what he could have possibly smelled on her that had caused his vacant stare at present.

And then his eyes flicked down to her stomach, and she knew.

They stared at one another, Petunia shaking her head in warning as Peter was on the opposite end of the couch. Remus finally mouthed “how long?” and Petunia sucked in her lower lip before holding up one finger and mouthing back “Month.”. The silence stretched out another moment before Remus stood up and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be right back. I think I need to mix _myself_ a drink.”

He walked off, leaving Petunia on the couch. She glanced over to Peter, who still had his eyes shut tightly and had just counted off to twenty, and somehow skipped back down to nine, and then back up to twelve. Whatever her brother in law had mixed for him, it must have been potent; the man was absolutely good and thrashed now. Watching him on the edge of the couch, Petunia felt a little bad for him. Peter had always seemed like a nice enough person, though a bit awkward sometimes, and she liked him well enough. But she always got the impression that he was more of a sidekick to James and Sirius than a true equal. As it were, sometimes she wondered if Remus was somewhat of the same. She could tell just from observing and spending time with them all that the four men truly did care for one another. But sometimes, it seemed as though James and Sirius were the core of the friendship and Remus and Peter were still outsiders even on the inside, two social outcasts who had been let into the popular clique and somehow had managed to remain there after school. Petunia did not consider herself an expert by any means, having herself just been brought into her sister’s circle of friends the past year. But there was just something about the self-styled Marauders and their internal relationship mechanics that did not seem to sit well with her.

She was taken from her thoughts when Remus walked back up to her a short moment later, without a drink in hand and looking deadly serious.

“Change in plans. It’s just about quarter to midnight. Need to get you back before anything unpleasant happens. Shall we say our goodbyes?”

On one hand, Petunia was glad that Remus was trying to avoid upsetting Severus and was determined to escort her back precisely at the agreed upon time. On the other, she was highly amused to see him so stone-faced and serious about it. She was certain it would amuse Severus later on too.

“Good idea.” She fought to keep the chuckle out of her voice, standing up and following him towards the dining room where the drinking games had paused in favor of bawdy drinking songs now instead. Scanning the room, she spotted her sister and her brother in law slinking away towards the side entrance of the dining room, all sly smiles and not-so-subtle touches. She could only presume that they were using the side entrance as a shortcut to get down the hall and to the stairs that led to their master bedroom on the small second floor. She decided against following them to say goodnight, hoping that Lily would understand when they next spoke.

Beside her, Remus was still and silent as he too saw the Potters slipping away mostly unnoticed. But his focus had moved off of them, and Petunia followed the path of his eyes to see Sirius staring after Lily and James with just a hint of wistfulness and what she perceived to be a hint of pain showing clear through his alcohol-glazed eyes. Everyone else was still caught up in their revelry, and no one but her seemed to notice what was happening – not that she herself knew truly what was happening either. Finally, Remus turned on his heel and walked out of the dining room. Petunia caught a hold of his wrist as he passed her, and followed along behind him without a word till they had made it clear out of the cottage and three houses down the lane. Finally, she felt she could no longer bear it and made the decision to press him for more details on what she had just witnessed.

“Remus. You’ve been pouting since we left the dining room. What’s wrong? And what was all that back there, with the pointed stares and such?”

He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in a mix of defeat and misery. “That was me being reminded I will always be the consolation prize. And now this is me wondering why I bother to try.”

Petunia would have come to a dead stop if Remus was not still walking so briskly, and she were not currently tethered to him by her own grip on his wrist.

“Consolation prize? To whom? Oh bollocks…” her mouth set in a grim line as she recalled Sirius’ behavior over the past near-two years. He had always been overly flirtatious with everyone; she’d been on the receiving end of it herself. But there was never anything serious to it, she knew that well. But with James, it had always been a little different. She could never quite put her finger to it before.

“There’s a reason James is the only one who he really listens to, you know? Sirius is in love with him. He always has been. He’s never admitted it, and James is clueless. But Peter and I, we both always knew it. They have a bond that I could never hope to touch. Don’t mistake me, they truly are best friends, and I know Sirius values that above all else. But I know with absolute certainty, that if given the chance, he would take it. And he’d have no need for me as his backup plan partner anymore.”

Her instant reaction was to tell Remus that he was being thick, his melancholy over his ongoing row with Sirius clouding his judgement, compounding tenfold with his deep running insecurities. But having seen the expression on Sirius’ face first hand…there was a part of Petunia that did not know if she could argue against it right now. Still, she could not let Remus stand here and beat himself up so much over it, and she knew the alcohol was still doing a bit of the talking as well. She decided instead to take a different approach to comforting him, skirting over Sirius’ supposed pining for James and ignoring Remus’ morose hypotheticals to ground him in the facts of the present moment.

“You are not a backup lover don’t you talk like that! You’re the one he goes home to, even if it…you know…takes him a few days sometimes. And you can’t possibly think that he would just up and discard you like an old tissue. I’ve seen the pair of you at home. I’ve seen how well you fit together, the way you look at one another when the other can’t see. Sirius loves you. Even if he’s being an idiot right now and doesn’t realize how he’s hurting you. I’m sure once the two of you can sit down and have an honest conversation, everything will be better. Maybe Marly or I can even sit with you as a mediator.”

Petunia was relieved to see some of the tension in his face ease, and Remus gently pulled his wrist free and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.

“Maybe. It’s less important right now than everything else going on. But it may be time for me to actually confront things and stop being so scared of…” he trailed off, but she knew instinctively where he had been going; after all, she had felt that way herself once, quite literally a lifetime ago.

“Of being alone.”

He glanced at her again, looking a little sheepish again. “Well…yes. Of that.”

She put an arm around his waist and hugged him as tight as she could with one arm. “You won’t be, Remus. I wouldn’t let you be.”

Remus made a small sigh somewhere between fatigue and contentment, and they lapsed into silence again as they crossed through the town square, out of the gateway and back into the wooded area just off the road leading into town. It was only after they both looked around the tree line and saw that they were alone that Remus broke the silence again.

“So, I need to congratulate Severus then. And you. On the little one. A month in?”

She nodded again, finally resting a hand on her stomach.

“Petunia. Not to take any joy away from what should be a happy moment but…what are you planning to do? It’s one thing to keep your boyfriend – partner – whatever he is to you – a secret from everyone else. But a baby is a little harder to hide, isn’t it?”

“What an astounding observation, Remus. Yes, a baby is very difficult to hide. …I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I barely told Sev last night. I had planned to tell you soon enough but you went and figured it out on your own somehow. What did you even smell on me to give it away?”

The somber demeanor that had gripped him for the past fifteen minutes was swiftly replaced by a very wolfish grin as Remus tapped the tip of his nose. “Hormones. Pregnant women give off a slightly different smell than usual. It’s hard to explain how exactly it’s different, but it is. I knew I smelled something different on you when we were in the kitchen earlier, but I thought I was just imagining it. Then it got to be a little later in the night and the scent got a little sharper. When I offered you a drink you looked at me as though I’d offered you poison and you looked at your stomach for a fraction of a second. That’s why I sniffed at you on the couch, and that’s when I knew for sure.”

_“Just my luck to befriend a man with a brain who also happens to be a werewolf…”_ Petunia thought to herself wryly. A soft popping sound in the quiet forest drew their attention, and even though they were expecting Severus, Remus had drawn his wand and stepped in front of her protectively.

“You’ve always had remarkably poor dueling form, Lupin.” Severus intoned dryly, sounding bored as he emerged from the dark cover of the trees and into the moonlight. “But…at least you had the good sense as an escort to have your wand in your hand.”

Most would have taken Severus’ words as a sharp jab – and they certainly were intended as one towards Remus. But Petunia knew that her partner was surgically precise with his words when it came to interacting with anyone other than her, and she at least could read between the lines of his harshness. He was grateful that Remus had moved to protect her against a possible threat, and that he had not simply assumed it was the person they were waiting for that had caused the sound. If there was one thing she had learned from Severus and Moody both, it was to always be overly cautious than overly careless. This was as close as Severus would likely ever come to praising Remus for anything, and it was far greater civility and far greater progress than she would have expected for only their second face to face encounter. She felt a little guilty for not placing more faith before in Severus’ self-control when faced with one of his former rivals – after all, he had to exert a great deal of self-control any time he put on the Death Mask and stood among the enemy, pretending to be one of them.

Petunia thought that Remus must have picked up on the careful phrasing, or perhaps he was being sarcastic – it was hard to tell when he had that infuriatingly polite persona in place; but he gave a very kind smile and nodded his head towards Severus as he unwound his arm from Petunia’s shoulders. “Thank you. That’s actually quite kind, coming from you. I would never leave that up to chance, not in these times. And besides – it’s more than just Petunia to help watch over now, isn’t it?”

Severus turned to Petunia, eyebrow raised just slightly in question. She cast a look at Remus, who was trying and failing to hide his amusement. Exasperated, she walked up to Severus and slid her arm around his waist lovingly. “He sniffed it out on his own, Sev. Literally sniffed it out. But since he figured it out, I confirmed it to him. I’ll explain at home.”

“No need. I’m fairly sure I understand how. Ready to go?”

Petunia nodded, laying her head against his side. She wasn’t sure if it was just the hormones, or the fact that she was so newly pregnant and so full of affection for him, but Petunia hadn’t realized just how much she had missed Severus tonight till he was standing beside her again. His arm was around her a moment later, holding her almost protectively against his side. Apparently, he had missed her too.

When she waved to Remus to say goodbye, Petunia thought she may have seen a little wistfulness in his eyes too. It hurt her heart to see him so broken up, and she sincerely hoped that he and Sirius could work out their relationship troubles soon. She’d made up her mind to do what she could to help them, and resolved to talk to Remus about it a bit more over their next lunch date.

Severus wrapped his other arm around her, and softly counted down from three. Petunia braced herself, and soon felt the pull of his magic as they left Godric’s Hollow and her friend behind.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the trouble in paradise begins for several of our couples. Buckle up, folks - things are only going to get more turbulent from here. Not that there won't be happy moments, of course! But there's still a storm coming. 
> 
> I'm so dreadfully sorry this took so long to get up, and I'm also sorry that I haven't responded to some comments yet (I will be doing that tomorrow!), but sometimes depression just takes away your energy and will to do anything, even if it's something you love to do. But a little self care goes a long way sometimes and I've been back on the writing train a little bit. Just hope the update was worth the wait. As ever, thank you all for reading and sticking with my little story. I truly appreciate you taking the time, and I also appreciate everyone that has taken the time to share their thoughts with me! 
> 
> So till next time (in which more trouble in paradise blooms for a young couple on the other side of the war, and Moody discovers that there's about to be a baby boom in the Order of the Phoenix),  
> -TR


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: None really for this chapter. Uncomfortable treatment of a house elf, but nothing triggering. Still, be cautious please!

* * *

_18 th November, 1979 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

Oftentimes throughout his childhood, when Regulus had been sad, he had found himself curled up on his side in bed, hugging his pillow to his chest as Kreacher’s spindly fingers carded through his hair, and the elf would shush and tut at him like he was a newborn in an effort to soothe him. It had been several long years since that sort of situation had arisen; Regulus had not even needed that kind of comfort when his father died earlier in the year.

Yet now, for the first time in a very long time, he found himself curled around his pillow in the old way with Kreacher sitting in front of him, the dark green curtains around his bed drawn tight and a _Muffliato_ cast around the perimeter to silence the sounds of his sniffling and pitiful whimpering should any of his dormmates happen to wander into the room this early on a Sunday evening.

“Kreacher hates to see Little Master so upset. What can Kreacher do to make it better?”

Regulus sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the corner of his pillow before tilting his head down to glance at his elf. “M’fine, Kree.”

The elf’s ears stiffened a little before drooping down in disappointment, and his normally scrunched face tightened further, giving him the appearance of a shrunken head as he frowned and withdrew his hand. “Little Master is not fine. The Crouch boy upset you. And it is all Kreacher’s fault…”

“No.” Regulus stated firmly, pushing himself upright and setting the pillow aside to sit cross-legged and face Kreacher directly. “No, it is NOT your fault. You did nothing wrong, Kreacher. Barty is the one who did wrong, not you.”

“Master Regulus got into a disagreement with the Crouch boy defending Kreacher!” The elf twisted the edge of his pillow case shirtdress in his hands, looking as anguished as he sounded. “And now you are upset. Kreacher is not worthy of such fuss, he does not like to see Little Master sad.”

The elf was only partially correct; the fight _had_ started in earnest because of him. But Regulus knew as the dregs of his sadness began to swirl with the white-hot anger still coursing through his belly that it had been weeks in the making. Severus had been right – as he always seemed to be, Regulus thought with a touch of annoyance – when he stated that there was trouble in paradise. Regulus had dismissed Severus’ concerns and insisted that it was merely the stresses of seventh year causing a slight distance between himself and Barty. He had not wanted Severus to worry about him, especially when Severus was already not overly fond of Barty to begin with, and privately Regulus had admitted to being a little too soft on his boyfriend, an after-effect of being truly in love for the first time and in his first true committed relationship. He told himself it was minor, a temporary stress and responsibility-induced rift.

After the argument earlier in the afternoon, a small and increasingly loud part of Regulus was starting to wonder if that small rift was not instead an overlooked large crack that was now spider-webbing and spreading through the entire foundation of his relationship.

Over the course of the school year, they had become more openly involved with one another to the school at large, taking little broom rides together on the Quidditch pitch after Regulus’ practices, or holding hands as they made their way around Hogsmeade together on the weekends. So though whispers still persisted around Ravenclaw house about the golden child Barty Crouch being queer, the majority of the student population did not really think anything of it. His housemates in Slytherin had long since become accustomed to Regulus and his tendency to bring visitors, and Slughorn didn’t give a damn what he did as long as he kept winning Quidditch matches and scoring highly in Potions.

This particular fall morning had started off well enough, as the young couple met up near the doors to the Great Hall after breakfast and slipped away hand in hand to the dungeons to enjoy the privacy of Regulus’ bed for the afternoon. The both of them immediately agreed they were too exhausted from the long school week to get up to anything too out of hand, so the boys lay side by side with several limbs entwined and made conversation instead, catching up on their separate school lives.

Barty vented for nearly an hour about a very complex essay he had been assigned in N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, lamenting that McGonagall seemed to be going ever harder on them the closer they got to Christmas break, followed by Regulus bemoaning the previous day’s particularly vigorous Quidditch match against Gryffindor that had resulted in both a very close, heartbreaking loss and a nasty tear across the palms of his favorite Seeker gloves.

“I hate playing against those brutes. They always fly dirty.” Regulus pouted as he levitated the gloves over from atop his trunk, letting them float lazily into Barty’s hands. The blonde turned them over a few times, making a little noise of interest as he considered them.

“I’m not quite confident in my cloth mending abilities or I would try to fix them for you.”

“I’m rubbish at that stuff too, I’ve never had to fix anything on my own…” Regulus chewed his lip with a heavy sigh of frustration, running a finger over the tear in the black leather of the right glove.

“What if you leave them with your laundry for the week? The school elves should be able to fix them, shouldn’t they? Not like the things have much else to do between cooking.”

Regulus scoffed. “As if I would trust my lucky gloves to random elves I don’t know! But…that actually gives me an idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I’ll just have MY elf mend them!”

He pushed himself upright on his elbows and closed his eyes, then spoke his summons as usual. Barty tilted his head just slightly, in the way he often did when he had stumbled on a piece of information that had interested him and warranted further research. As ever, his curiosity seemed to push him forward when he asked “You can summon your elf to Hogwarts? With just a spoken word? How does that work, a blood bond? Dark magic?”

“For **once** I know something the great and mighty Ravenclaw doesn’t?” Regulus teased, chuckling a little before elaborating. “Kreacher is bonded directly to me. He can sense and respond to my summons even from a distance, because he sees me as his true master, not my mother. He sort of explained it to me when I was very small, that if I focused on our home hard enough and envisioned my blood tie to the house as a sort of magic string that I was tugging on as I called for him, he would come. I think it has something to do with the way that the Black family is blood-bound to Grimmauld Place, and the way that he’s bound to the home and to me as his main master.”

The sparkle in Barty’s blue eyes was electric, and he opened his mouth to ask more questions, but it took only a moment more for Kreacher to appear at the foot of the bed with a soft _pop_ and, upon taking in the sight of the other boy beside his master, the elf dipped into a low and formal bow that sent the tips of his ears down onto the comforter. He had apparently taken Barty’s presence as necessitating formality, likely to keep up appearances for his master’s sake.

“Master Regulus calls for Kreacher. How may Kreacher serve you?”

“You can start by standing up and giving me a hug, you silly thing. It’s just my boyfriend, you don’t have to be all stiff about it.” Regulus smiled at the elf, turned to glance sidelong at Barty, and was taken aback to see what looked like irritation and mild displeasure suddenly plastered on the blonde’s face. Kreacher must have noticed it as well, as he had halted partway in his approach and did not obey the original request until Regulus looked back to him. It was not till his arms were wrapped tightly around Kreacher that Regulus turned back to Barty, his brows furrowed in confusion now.

“Why are you making that face?”

Barty appeared to make a sudden attempt at schooling his features, but gave it up quickly under Regulus’ intense gaze. He huffed slightly and finally sat up as well, turning to fully face his lover.

“I’m a little surprised. It’s a bit…abnormal. You treat your elf like a person?”

Regulus felt a flash of annoyance. He knew it was abnormal among the wizarding community to be so overly-familiar with a non-human magical servant, especially for someone of his standing, and he was fully aware of their Dark Lord’s stance on non-humans being lesser than witches and wizards. But Kreacher was special to him, and their relationship felt different somehow, exempt from the traditional order. Kreacher was intelligent and dedicated to him, and when it came down to it Regulus knew in his heart that Kreacher loved him, truly and genuinely – perhaps more than anyone else, Barty included.

“He’s different than other house elves. They can’t hold a candle to mine.” Regulus pressed a kiss to the top of Kreacher’s head and released him from his embrace, taking his gloves from where they now lay upon Barty’s knee and presenting them to the elf. “Look at them. My very favorite ones! Those Gryffindor gits made me tear through my gloves, Kree.”

“Regulus. You have a pet name for the thing, too?”

The admonishment and incredulity in Barty’s tone was clear as day, and caused both house elf and master to turn and face him. Normally Regulus could care less what anyone thought of him from one day to the next. But he did not like being judged this way by someone whose opinion he actually cared about. He cast an appraising look at Barty again, the annoyance flittering about him like a gnat that he couldn’t quite wave away.

“Yes, I do. It’s my baby name for him.”

“Don’t you think you’re a bit…old for all that? I can understand that sort of thing from a child, but a fully grown pureblood wizard? It’s a bit immature of you.”

The bluntness of it caught Regulus off guard. He was quite used to Barty’s straightforward nature, to the way he often spoke candidly about all manner of things when they were in private. But Regulus himself had not been on the receiving end of his boyfriend’s calculated and sharply worded observations. He was more than a little upset, and rapidly growing more so the longer he thought of it.

“Why are you so put off about this? And what does it matter if I gave him a nickname? I’m close with him, more than nearly anyone else. Don’t you have a house elf too?”

Barty scoffed, and there was a coldness again in Regulus’ gut that he could not identify. Something about the blonde had seemed to sharpen, and indeed his posture had too as he folded his arms over in what Regulus could only label as defiant and defensive despite being the one who had criticized Regulus in the first place.

“My family is as old as yours, of course I have a house elf. But she’s a servant. Part of the house. She serves us, as a servant is supposed to. And we treat her as she is: like a servant. You’re over here treating this thing like a human, and having feelings for it. I find it a bit daft of you, in all honesty.”

Heat and anger now ran through Regulus’ core, but before he could get out a waspish reply, Kreacher had stepped between the two boys and looked up at Barty with his watery eyes narrowed.

“Who is this wretched boy, to speak to Kreacher’s most noble master like this? Having no manners as he is rude to the head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! You are not deserving of a place in my master’s bed!”

For Regulus, who had often heard Kreacher gossip and grumble when they were alone together but never heard the elf speak directly to anyone in such a way, it was enough to shock him into silence as he gaped down in slack-jawed amazement at him. It was considered very rude and uncouth for a house elf to speak back or criticize any human, let alone a guest of its master. And yet, rather than feel angry or embarrassed by his behavior, Regulus felt a surge of affection for his house elf. That Kreacher would break from his normally staunch adherence to formality and tradition in order to defend Regulus was moving in a way that he did not expect to feel.

Barty too had been stunned into silence by Kreacher’s defense, his lip curled into a sneer of displeasure that reminded Regulus for a moment of Lucius’ expression when he had stepped into something unpleasant in the street.

“How dare you address me like that, stupid elf! Were you not trained to respect your betters? Know your place or be put in it!”

The blonde raised his hand as though to strike. Regulus was unsure if Barty would have actually back handed Kreacher, or if he was simply trying to frighten the elf. He didn’t care which it was; it was in that moment that Regulus felt himself snap. With teeth bared and gritted, his wand was in his hand as though it had been conjured there, and he pointed it directly at Barty’s face.

“If you so much brush the edge of a fucking fingernail against my elf, I will make you regret it in an INSTANT.” He all but growled, seething at the very thought.

Barty’s hand lowered as he switched his glare from Kreacher to Regulus. “You cannot be serious right now. You let your elf speak like this to a human? To _me?_ And then you don’t even discipline it?”

Patience already worn thin and emotions rubbed raw, Regulus held his wand steady even as Barty lowered his hand back to the bed. “Kreacher is not an IT. He is a HE. You’re being an arse, and he’s defending me. He’s part of my family, not a bloody pet, and no one lays a hand on him. NO ONE.”

“Are you this soft? Next thing I know you’ll be telling me that muggles and mudbloods are our equals. You have no problem torturing them to put _them_ in place. Yet you won’t discipline an _elf._ It’s no wonder you haven’t been tasked with more by our Lord during our breaks from school, like I was. If you’re this damned sentimental and attached to a worthless piece of your own property, then you aren’t ready to do his bidding and serve him unflinchingly as you should.”

The venom in Barty’s tone and the arrogance in his gaze burned Regulus down to the quick, and left him feeling hollow within moments. The harsh words hit their mark straight and true, and stuck to the front of Regulus’ mind as he tried to parse their full meaning.

“What are you trying to get at?” Regulus fought to keep the raw emotion from his voice as he quietly pressed his lover for more information.

Barty shook his head as though in disappointment. “While you’ve been focused on trivial things like this, I have been learning and fighting to prove myself to him. Our Lord entrusted me with assignments over the summer, working with him directly. If this is any indication-” Barty gestured to Kreacher with a look of disgust, “-you would not have the stomach to do what needed to be done.”

Tears were prickling the corners of Regulus’ eyes as he reeled from everything; the way Barty had reacted to his closeness with Kreacher, the way he had turned so nasty towards the most important being in Regulus’ life, the fact that he had been singled out by their Lord and he had not been, and that worst of all Barty had kept it a secret from him till it came out now in a fight of all things. Barty seemed to come back down from his anger a little as Regulus looked him directly in the eyes.

“Get out.”

“Wait, Regulus, I’m sorry. I got upset and I didn’t mean-” Barty reached a hand, regret on his face. Regulus slapped it away with his free hand, his wand still not falling away from Barty’s face.

“I said get out. Before I have Kreacher TAKE you out of my room!”

Judging from the look on Kreacher’s face, he was all too eager to do so.

They stared at one another for a beat, and then Barty slowly put his hands up in surrender and started to climb out of the bed. “There’s no need for that. I’m going.”

Regulus told himself over and over in his mind _“hold it together till he leaves…”_ but nearly broke down as Barty glanced down at him with what appeared to be some form of regret. Shaking his head, the blonde turned away and showed himself out of the dorm room. Regulus trusted that Barty knew his own way out of the dungeons by now, and hastily spelled his curtains closed and muttered a silencing spell just before dropping his wand to the bedspread, grabbing his pillow to his chest, and falling onto his side to cry. He was stunned by what had just happened, and how quickly it had escalated. Kreacher’s hands immediately set upon his head and began to run through his hair. As Regulus gave himself over to the tears, he could not get out of his mind the vicious way that Barty had turned upon him, and the speed with which he had. He knew Barty was capable of putting his emotions to the side with ease, and he was aware of course of the necessity of the militaristic and cutthroat actions they would have to take in order to create the Dark Lord’s new world, but he never thought it would be turned upon him.

Even now, hours later and all cried out, Regulus was still wounded and unsure of things. As he tried to reassure Kreacher that it was not his fault, and that he had done nothing wrong, he could not help but think back on the so-called assignments that Barty mentioned. He wondered what on Earth Barty had been doing for the Dark Lord that he himself had not already done in His service too. 

“I’m done being sad now, Kree. I promise.” Regulus made himself smile down at Kreacher, to try to ease the elf’s worries. It seemed to work, as Kreacher sat down on the bed beside his little master and took up the torn gloves that had seen him summoned to Hogwarts in the first place.

“Kreacher hopes so, little master. Little master is too pretty for tears. Kreacher will fix the gloves and they will be perfect again, just like you.”

The smile on Regulus’ face was genuine now, and he pressed another kiss to the elf’s wrinkled head. “You’re sweet, Kree. Thank you. For defending me. That must have been hard for you. I know how you are about tradition and all that.”

Kreacher turned his gaze on his master, deadly serious. “Kreacher would do anything for his little master. He is wanting to keep you safe and happy, because Kreacher loves you.”

Normally, it was Regulus who initiated those words – though Kreacher was the one who had taught him how to say it in the first place, whispering it to his youngest charge when they were alone and Regulus was still small enough to be carried about in his arms. Regulus had to fight back another surge of tears at Kreacher’s declaration.

“I love you too, Kreacher. More than anyone else.”

Kreacher wiped at the corners of his large eyes as he turned his attention to the gloves at long last, and set to work mending them with his magic. Regulus lay back down, enjoying the soothing presence of his house elf, and trying to not think about what the status of his relationship with Barty Crouch was right now. Something had shifted heavily between them, that much he knew for sure.

Whether or not the shift was actually a break – that remained to be seen.

* * *

_10 th December, 1979 – Bloomsbury, West End of London Borough of Camden, England_

Alastor Moody was having a hell of a Monday.

As the Head Auror sat slumped back against the cushions of Petunia Evans’ couch holding onto a soft white porcelain cup and saucer he found much too fancy for his rough hands, he wondered what in the hell else could possibly happen in the course of one work day.

Both the formal departmental investigation into the death of Auror Brandts and his own personal special investigation into the death and the Ministry’s critical information leak had met almost as many dead ends as the number of bodies that had been slowly piling up in St. Mungo’s morgue thanks to Voldemort’s ever escalating reign of terror. Another grim report with no new information and no new leads that morning from Auror Shacklebolt had left Alastor in a state of irritation so strong that he’d shut himself into his office for the better part of the morning and all of the early afternoon, emerging only when he needed a hefty cup of coffee to splash some brandy into because a full pot of Pepperup potion-infused tea was just not enough to get the damned job done.

His foul mood had not improved at all by the time both of the Longbottoms knocked on his office door just prior to quitting time, and asked to speak with him about something important.

“Sir…we’ve ah…we’ve got some news we need to share. With you. Very important. It will impact our work. Sort of. Not immediately but in the near future? Well sort of immediately…” Frank began, clearing his throat and swallowing before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. Alastor was immediately concerned by the fumbling for words and the overall paleness of the man, who looked downright petrified. It wasn’t like Frank of all people to be so nervous, especially not around his boss. The two men had an understanding of one another after all, and maintained what neither would openly admit was a very strong friendship. For him to be nervous now meant something highly important, and Alastor felt a little unsettled himself.

“Sit down, Frank. You look like a damned ghost and you’re blathering.” Alastor gestured to the open chair in front of his desk, the other one already occupied by Alice, whom he turned to next. “Since you’re the only sensible Longbottom present right now” – here he glanced to Frank again with an eyebrow raised to say “Calm down”, then looked back to Alice – “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

She’d had to repeat herself twice after that, as Alastor could not believe what he was hearing.

“You’re WHAT?” he barked, slapping a hand down on the desk.

Alice bit her lip, wincing just slightly. She took it far better than her husband had; Frank nearly tumbled from his chair from the sudden outburst.

“Pregnant, Sir. I know that it’s not an ideal time-”

“We’re in a bloody WAR! You’re damn right it’s not an ideal time!”

She continued talking as though Alastor had not cut in at all. “But I assure you I can still do my job – both this and my other job – at least till I’m too fat to walk around.”

The Head Auror ran a hand through his dark grey mane of hair, staring incredulously at her. “Like hell you can! You think I’m sending a woman with child out into the field, right now of all times? What sorta bastard d’yeh think I am! Have yeh both lost yer wits?!”

He heard his accent slip, the Scot in his blood rising up, and he had to put his hands around the armrests of his chair and squeeze in order to calm himself. His Aurors put their lives on the line every day for him, and all of them were playing with fire when it came to their work in the Order. But the thought of sending an Auror _and_ her unborn child into the line of duty, and potentially to death? Alastor drew the line at that.

“Sir…with all due respect…Alice wants to continue working. I already tried to talk her out of it but she boxed me ‘round the ear.” Frank sheepishly put in, smiling over at his wife.

Alastor shook his head. “I can’t allow that. You both know I can’t.”

“Sir. …Al.” Alice began gently. Alastor’s frown deepened. There were very few people still living who could use his first name, let alone a nickname for him; perhaps only four people had that right. The Longbottoms were two of them. That Alice used his name now gave him pause as much as it annoyed him. She then had the audacity to lay her small, soft hand on top of his scarred paw. The woman was waging full-scale emotional warfare against him and all three of them knew it.

The worst part was that it was bloody _working_.

“Al. You’re practically part of our family. And for all your gruff and tough posturing we know you love us as much as we love you. I know you would do anything to keep us safe. But I knew what I was signing up for when I took my oath of service and took this badge, and I knew what I was agreeing to when I joined the Order. I want to fight. And there’s too much at stake to not let me do that.”

Silence overtook the room, and Alastor looked away from the pair. He knew she was right. There was far too much at stake to lose one of his best Aurors now. She was more than adept at protecting herself, and protecting those around her. Her fellow Aurors in the field would watch her back as much as she watched theirs, and Alastor had been making it a point to go on field assignments himself lately too. He certainly would be going on more now, with Alice in this state. He drained the rest of his mug, ignoring the urge to pull out his brandy decanter and have a direct nip of that instead.

“How far along are you now?” Alastor asked at last, making it a point to not look at Alice’s hand still over his, to not glance down and start to think of the last person who used to lay their hand atop his own to plead for something he did not want to concede to.

It was Alice’s turn to look sheepish now as she and Frank shared a look. “About six weeks.”

“Before you can figure it out, I’ll just tell you, it was um…probably about Halloween and there was a bit of a party. We’re normally more careful about that sort of thing…” Frank trailed off, cheeks turning rosy. Alastor thought he sounded like a nervous teenager confessing to his father. He let him squirm for a moment before putting the younger man out of his misery.

“So you had too much fun at the Potter Halloween party and had a little bit of an accident then, I take it?” he stated. Frank nodded, and his shoulders raised in a half-shrug, half-affirmation. Even Alastor could not help but chuckle, as he was reminded again how young the Longbottoms truly were. Not for the first time – and he knew it would not be the last time either – he remembered just how young **most** of the Order of the Phoenix was, and how their lives should have been, how his own life had been when he was young and fresh in the Ministry. Though his worry had not decreased in the slightest, Alastor could feel the joy radiating from the young couple at the prospect of a new baby, and combined with Alice’s pleading of a few moments before, it finally softened him.

“Congratulations. You’re both still idiots. But luckily for you, you’re on my good side.”

“You’ve got one of those?” Alice teased, her eyes bright with mirth.

He tossed an unamused look her way, though he was actually quite amused by her. “Don’t sass me, young lady. I’ve still got half a mind to stick you on a desk in the records room for the next seven months till you can’t waddle in here anymore.”

“Duly noted, Sir.”

“We can discuss modified assignments tomorrow. Does the Headmaster know yet?”

Frank shook his head. “No, Sir. You’re actually the first person we’ve told. My mam doesn’t even know yet. We were planning to tell her tonight over dinner.”

The older man was touched that they had brought it to him first, and wondered if he deserved that sort of honor.

“Tell him after you’ve told her, then. I’ll start thinking of how we’re modifying your assignments. Now off with you, no need for overtime.” He waived a hand to dismiss them.

Both Longbottoms stood, but rather than leave immediately, they came around the desk to hug him. It warmed him inside and out. It also made him want to turn out the contents of his stomach with worry over the two of them and their unborn child. He grunted at the couple, but did not shrug them off. Frank patted his shoulder, as Alice pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He stayed at his desk, quiet and alone, for a long time after they had left.

The clock on the wall chimed seven, and he finally stood and gathered up his things. He had committed to stopping in at Petunia’s flat that evening for an update from her contact, so he took up his staff and tucked his wand into place within it and made his way across town.

Within minutes of arriving there, he knew something was wrong. Parts of the normally tidy living room were in slight disarray with books stacked on the coffee table, and a few pieces of clothing were draped over the back of the armchair still on their hangers. On top of that, Petunia seemed distracted and not as sharp as usual as she handed over a stack of her handwritten notes on Death Eater movements and began to list off details of possible upcoming attacks, all while preparing tea and a light meal. Several times, her owl had to hand her an ingredient or pick up a utensil she had forgotten she needed. He glanced up at her from time to time as he read through her notes twice over, until finally he felt compelled to ask what had her in such a state.

“Maybe it should be none of my concern, but as your assigned guard I think I ought to make it my concern. You seem like your head’s not on right. What’s on your mind?”

Petunia sighed heavily as she carried over the tea, and set a saucer and cup before him. Out of old habit he glanced it over, scanning the surface for anything obtrusive and then finally taking it into his hands. He waited – with more patience than he realized he had – until she had settled herself on the armchair across from him. She didn’t seem to notice the clothing behind her back.

“I have to meet my contact’s mother this weekend. I’m nervous.”

The words did not register immediately. He frowned, puzzling over them until he saw Petunia absently place a hand over her stomach while she stared off at the wall behind him. The pieces suddenly fit together, and he was amazed he didn’t break the cup in his hand.

“Petunia. Are you pregnant? By your undercover contact?”

Even before she nodded, he knew he was right from the guilt now etched onto her face. Alastor took a sip of his tea even though it was still scalding, just to keep himself from exploding at another pregnant woman in the same day.

She sat up a little straighter, appearing to compose herself at last as she began giving him the facts. That at least he was used to, from her regular debriefings to him. It was a good sign in his opinion, a sign that she had not compromised herself as an informant, though she had apparently compromised herself in another way.

“I found out in late October…I’m about two and a half months on now. The baby is due in June. My contact is aware. His mother is not aware of his affiliation with the Order or with the Death Eaters. He has a day job. He’s told her about the child and now I sort of need to meet her. Obviously, no one knows about our work for the Order. No one even knows about our relationship. Well…almost no one.”

He leaned forward on the couch in alarm. “Who else knows? Did you tell your sister?”

“No, I can’t tell Lily who it is. She would not react well. …Remus Lupin knows. He and I are very close friends. But you know Remus well enough by now, don’t you? He’s trustworthy.”

Alastor agreed with her that much at least. The Headmaster certainly trusted the young man enough to send him out as a spy among the werewolves at a time when many had aligned with Voldemort, and they needed as many eyes on the inside as they could get right now. He supposed she could have chosen far worse people to become close friends with.

“So your family doesn’t know. How exactly do you plan on hiding an entire pregnancy? You’ll be showing soon won’t you?”

“I’m already starting to, actually…I don’t plan on hiding it, I just don’t plan on telling her who the father is for the immediate time being. But I’ll have to tell Lily I’m expecting, and soon. Especially now that she’s also…” Petunia trailed off, seeming to suddenly realize what she had said.

There was a clatter as Alastor set down the cup to the saucer, spluttering the sip he had just taken. He coughed and wiped at his chin with one hand, staring wide-eyed over the rim at her.

“Your sister is PREGNANT TOO!?” he finally exclaimed. “Is EVERYONE bloody pregnant!?”

“Two people is hardly _everyone_ , Moody.”

Alastor slumped back against the couch cushions. “I wish it was only two! Next thing you’ll be telling me that Black and Lupin are expecting!”

Petunia stifled a snicker, pressing her index finger against her lips to hold it in. Alastor just gave her an unamused look and waited for her to settle down.

The mood serious once more, Alastor sat back and listened as Petunia quietly told him of her sister’s letter that had arrived that afternoon, informing her that she was newly pregnant – likely from the same damned Halloween party that had seen Alice Longbottom knocked up, he reasoned – and that they would be sending out a formal birth announcement within the next two weeks, probably just in time for Christmas. He held onto the tea cup in his hands, letting the warmth that was just shy of painful seep into his skin and leaning his head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

Logistically, he now had to contend with the fact that three of the best and brightest of the Order were soon to be out of commission. He was going to lose two of the best combat wands they had. James Potter was hard to manage on a good day, and with his feisty wife carrying their child…Alastor imagined that it would take a good deal of effort to reign him in, should something bad happen. Frank was much more level headed, and Alastor wanted to trust that he would behave rationally, as befit his position as an Auror. But who could really truly predict how someone would behave when someone they loved was threatened? He knew he may well have to reassign the two to other partners during Alice’s pregnancy, or try to keep her on low-risk assignments to ensure that Frank was not placed in a situation that would force him to have to make an impossible decision.

The issue of the adults aside, he also had to contend with the fact that three new lives were trying to form and set to be born under the dark cloud of the worst crisis the Wizarding world had seen in decades – or, arguably ever. Three newborn children would be underfoot in half a year or so. And he was not sure if any of those children’s parents would ever get to see them grow up. It was a tragedy in the making, and he felt the weight of each of those lives – parents and children – pressing down on his chest. He did not want to care for them. He had tried to keep people at a distance for so long. He had failed in that, grown attached to them anyway. And he wanted to protect them all. He would split himself into pieces and take their places in battle if he could, give every drop of blood in his body if it meant a life of peace for them. They were all so young. So terribly, terribly young in his eyes.

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m more than capable of maintaining my duties, and so is my contact. We’ve already got plans in place for the care of the child if something happens to one or both of us. He and I are still planning and working out backup plans for those. Pregnancy is not an illness. It will not affect my mission.” Petunia said at last. Alastor heard stubbornness and steadfastness in her voice, a quiet fire that reminded him of another headstrong person he knew years before. Finally, he looked at her again. She looked defiant, ready to punch Voldemort in the face if she had to, and somehow Alastor could imagine her doing just such. He had to admit to himself that he felt a good deal of respect for this Muggle woman. He would not admit he had started to think of her as a friend.

“Good. You’re the most sensible of the lot of your sister and brother-in-law and all their friends. I want to be informed of these plans so that I can review them and give you my approval. If I’m to continue to guard you, that means I’ll need to know your plans so that I can guard the child as well.”

Petunia looked for a moment like she might have objected or put something else in, but he leveled her with a look he often used on his team and she stayed quiet, her arms folded over. It didn’t matter to him that she was not one of his Aurors – she was his responsibility and he would hold her to the same standards that he would hold one of them to. Perhaps sensing that it was not a good idea to argue, Petunia eventually nodded and waved a hand for him to continue.

“You still did a stupid thing, not using protection during a war. But I’m sure you’ve already told yourself that. Congratulations all the same. You’ll be a fine mother, and your future mother-in-law is a fool if she can’t tell that in an instant. You know, we’ll need to update the wards on the flat when the baby is born, and you’ll need to take extra precaution with baby-proofing the place. Wizarding children can exhibit spontaneous magic sometimes and you’ll need to be-”

“Vigilant. Constantly. I know, thank you. Fairly certain I’ll be hearing it in my night terrors for the rest of my life.” She said with a wry smile.

Alastor had had just about enough of young women sassing him today. But he was pleased to see Petunia closer to her normal self. His own burdens seemed to grow greater by the day. But he would gladly take on more if it helped to ease those of the ones around him.

“Good. Means you’ll remember me when I’m gone. Now that you’ve got your head on right, tell me more about this next round of potential attacks your little boyfriend has given us. What’s your opinion on the viability of some of these?”

He spread the pages of notes out on the coffee table, and the two of them set to discussing it in earnest. Children or not, there was still work to be done. And as Alice had said earlier in the day, there was too much at stake to not let them carry on in the fight. For the sake of their unborn children, and the children and siblings and loved ones of many others, they had to fight.

Constant vigilance - and the variations of the phrase that he spouted out - were not merely expressions. It was a reminder to himself to keep on his toes, and keep watch over those around him. He did not want to be caught flat-footed ever again. He wanted this war over, and the bastard responsible for their deaths sent to his own. More than anything else, Alastor Moody knew how fragile life and love truly were, and how precious both were. He would fight to protect all the opportunity he had lost.

He owed the two pieces of his heart that lay buried in the earth that much.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Regulus learns that there is more going on than he realized, and Alastor has nearly had a heart attack twice over in one day. These two tend to parallel one another in their shared chapters for a reason. We're getting ever closer to them finally meeting face to face! (And you have no idea how excited I am for it; it's one of the three big scenes I've been waiting to write since the beginning).
> 
> I'm so dreadfully sorry I've taken so long between. It's been a long week here in the USA and the nightmare is finally starting to end now that a real damn adult is going to be taking over. Still a lot of work to do, but a reassuring start for sure. 
> 
> Also! Another excellent piece of artwork by ReyofDawn on Tumblr! This time, I commissioned them for a scene from chapter 19 (I think it's 19?) of Regulus and Sev at Madam Puddifoots! You can check it out [here](https://reyofdawn.tumblr.com/post/633728368294215680/another-commission-for-bombasticnerdtastic). Show them some support if you like it! I'll definitely be commissioning them for more.
> 
> I'm very behind on comments, I am so sorry! I will get back to everyone over the next week. As always, thank you so, so very much for sticking around and for your patience. I appreciate you all so much. And I'm posting this as I am dead tired so please if you see a typo let me know so I can fix it and bask in my shame. Thank you!
> 
> Till next time (in which Petunia has to face the music and meet Eileen at long last),  
> -TR


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: None for this chapter.

* * *

_17 th December, 1979 – Cokeworth, the Midlands, England_

Halfway through the drive down to their old hometown, Petunia had to pull to the side of the road and lay her head against the steering wheel as Severus rubbed soothing circles against her back, in an effort to fight back the wave of anxiety that she swore would force her into labor six months early. The last thing she wanted to contend with was early labor on top of everything else already swirling around them. Traveling this near to Christmas was folly in and of itself. The amount of traffic leaving London coupled with her uncontrollable hormones had her near frothing at the mouth in the first half hour of travel. Loathe as she was to think of Vernon Dursley ever again, she felt that she finally understood his complaints behind the wheel as he drove the family about.

But she had wanted this, she reminded herself bitterly as she pulled back onto the main road and carried on after catching her breath. She had insisted that meeting Eileen could simply not wait any longer. With morning sickness starting to creep up more and more frequently now – oh she had not missed the pregnancy part of being a mother in the least, she had groaned to the basin of her toilet just the other day after breakfast – and her stomach now starting to swell in an obvious show of carrying her child, they were fast running out of time to plan and prepare, and time was the one thing they simply could not gain more of. If events held true as they had thus far, they knew the exact date and time that their unborn child would be born. They had just over half a year now to be ready for its arrival.

“If it becomes too much I can still Apparate us down there, Petunia. You’d just have to find a place to safely park for a handful of hours and we can be there in an instant.” Severus offered gently, as though trying to soothe a wild snake lest it sink its fangs into his leg. She felt a little guilty still at his unusually cautious approach – she’d roared at him that morning as her daily sickness turned her stomach and her anxiety flared up at the prospect of the day’s lunch meeting, and he had been hovering nearby in a manner that he must have thought was helpful, but Petunia only found aggravating and she told him as much in rather colorful language. She did not think she had ever seen Severus move that fast in their time together. She had since apologized, but knew from his stories that her lover had often been on the receiving end of the Lady Malfoy’s hormonal swings since last month as well and was likely to be good and traumatized by pregnant women by the time both of the children were in the world.

“No thank you, Sev. You know I always feel dreadful after that sort of travel. Last thing I want to do is show up to your front porch and retch on the steps as your mum opens the door.”

It was one of the nightmare scenarios she had run through in her mind the past several days. If Petunia had gained anything from her friendship with Alastor Moody, it was a new appreciation for over-preparing and accounting for as many scenarios as possible, regardless of how farfetched they may seem at first look. She had certainly taken it to heart, as just two nights before - in a complete reversal of roles - she had peppered Severus with questions about his mother, about her likes and dislikes, her habits and what her facial expressions and body language was liable to mean at any given time. Only sheer exhaustion on her own part had made Petunia call it a night, and the next day she awoke early to see Sev off for his work day at the Apothecary and to bake her way through the large bag of flour in her pantry. Another part of why she had not wanted to travel magically was the logistical horror of trying to also carry along the sheer amount of baked goods she had produced and packed into festive tins in her anxious state, in the hopes of leaving a favorable impression upon her unborn child’s grandmother.

They stopped only once more on the drive, this time for Petunia to make use of the restroom at a petrol station as despite having only had a single cup of tea that morning she swore the baby was shrinking her bladder somehow, and after what they both swore was three times as long a trip as usual they finally pulled around into an old empty lot behind the terrace houses at the very end of the street. Finally freed of the task of safely conveying them to their destination, Petunia took a moment to stretch her aching body, swearing that she was going to teach Severus to drive so she didn’t have to bear the burden alone any longer. She laughed to herself briefly at the idea of Severus grumpily handing in a form at the DVLA in London city proper, and then having the same grumpy face as he sat down to take a behind the wheel driving test with a proctor nervously in the passenger seat holding onto a clipboard. Despite being half Muggle himself, the very thought of Severus in such a mundane and very Muggle situation was highly amusing and helped to settle her nerves down just a bit.

Severus had meanwhile taken on the task of loading the baked goods into shopping sacks and charming them to be light enough to carry one-handed, his other hand coming to settle against the small of Petunia’s back as she finally locked the door and joined him at the boot of the car.

“Are you ready?” he asked, sounding none too ready himself.

“Truthful answer? No. And I may still retch at any moment. Let’s get it over and done with.”

She heard Severus make a low noise between a thoughtful hum and an amused huff as he led her gently along towards the edge of the lot. “At the very least I have her assurance she won’t throw anything at you. I believe she’s gotten that all out of her system now. She threw half of the contents of the bookshelf in the living room at me when I first opted to tell her about this.”

It did not make Petunia feel any better, and she let it show on her face when she looked up at him. Despite the severity of the situation, and the sourness of her expression, Severus had the nerve to smile wryly at her and she found she was flustered rather than annoyed any longer. _“Damn the bloody hormones!”_ she groused inwardly. Still, she was comforted despite her best efforts to remain cross, and by the time the completed their short walk to the front of Severus’ home Petunia had steeled herself. Taking a deep breath, she nodded to Severus and took a half step back as he opened the front door.

Standing in the middle of the living room, arms folded over a thin and slight frame, was the woman that Petunia had seen beside Severus at his graduation ceremony. If she had not already seen the woman once, she still would have known Eileen to be Severus’ mother at an instant. Her son took heavily after her, nose and jawline and sneer of general displeasure and all.

“Afternoon, mum.” Severus began as he led Petunia inside and closed the door behind her.

Petunia, never one to shy away from socializing in the past, put on her best and bravest face and smiled warmly at Eileen as she stepped forward and extended her hand to shake. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Snape. I’m Petunia. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Eileen stared down her long, hooked nose at Petunia’s hand, sneer deepening. Still, she took the younger woman’s hand and shook it tersely once before releasing it quick as possible. Already things were off to a charming start, Petunia thought sarcastically.

“Yes, well. Now that I know you exist in the first place…I suppose we have _much_ to chat about.”

Petunia did not miss the venom in the first part of Eileen’s statement. Nor did she miss the thinly veiled threat in the older woman’s neutral tone overall.

“I’ve told mum a few basic things –” Severus began, setting the sacks of treats on the coffee table when Eileen cut him off partway.

“Yes. The first thing he told me is that you’re the older Evans sister.”

There was something in the way that Eileen phrased it, the emphasis on her surname perhaps, that put Petunia right back on edge. “Yes, I’m Lily’s elder sister. She and Severus were close friends as children, I’m sure you recall.”

Somewhere along the way, Eileen’s sneer had turned into a smile so tight that Petunia swore the woman’s face would crumble like brittle old parchment at the slightest movement. “I recall her. I also seem to recall that their friendship ended over her refusal to acknowledge her housemate’s blatantly abusive bullying for what it was. And then from what I’ve been told she then went on to marry the spineless bastard didn’t she?”

Petunia wasn’t exactly inclined to disagree, much as she loved her brother-in-law now, he _was_ a bastard and he had done awful, cowardly, and abusive things to Severus. Still, she did not get a chance to answer before Eileen continued on.

“Now, unless my memory fails me…aren’t you the same older sister that disparaged my son as a child for his social status? The same Petunia that was also needlessly cruel to him up to the very day she moved away from Cokeworth?”

She supposed she should have expected to have rotten luck. Severus winced as he looked at his lover apologetically, but Petunia was not taken too off guard by Eileen’s words. Even though his relationship with his mother had been strained for several years, Severus was still somewhat close to the woman and naturally he talked to her about his heartaches at school. It seemed natural that he would have also told the woman about his first bully – and Petunia shamefully knew she owned that title. Thus, this had been a possibility she had prepared for – she really should bake Moody something special tomorrow for instilling his mantra of constant vigilance in her, she made mental note – and though Petunia was not expecting to be on the defensive so soon into the visit, she recovered quickly.

“Yes, ma’am. I am the same older sister you’re thinking of. But I assure you, I am not the same wicked little girl that I was once. I’ve grown up a good deal, and have nothing but regret for my past actions. I’ve spent some time now trying to make amends, as Sev can tell you.”

Eileen gave a low, derisive snort and looked at the soft swell of Petunia’s stomach. “Apparently you’ve made quite the _special_ effort at reconciliation, if your current condition is any indication.”

Inwardly, the old bitter Petunia that she had been trying so hard not to be any longer was fighting against the older-but-technically-younger, calmer and wiser Petunia that she had prided herself on becoming. But the urge to meet Eileen’s rudeness with a few choice words of her own was ultimately outweighed by the desire to have peace with her, and Petunia managed to maintain her smile. She was preparing a reply when Severus seemed to remember that he too was part of this meeting.

“Her current condition carrying your grandchild is equal parts my doing, mother.” Severus put in quietly as Eileen turned to him with an arched brow, lips pursed. “If you would prefer that we leave, I am more than willing to remove myself and the mother of my unborn child from your presence.”

Though Petunia was fully capable of mounting her own defense against the older woman, it warmed her from head to toe that Severus had stood up for her instead. She watched as Eileen seemed to hold silent counsel with her son through a series of facial expressions, then was surprised as the older woman waved them both brusquely towards the kitchen.

“There’s no need for dramatics, Severus. The both of you, come to the table for lunch.”

As Eileen swept from the room, her housedress swishing around her calves as she turned, Petunia again was stricken by the resemblance between mother and child. Severus shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking entirely put upon.

“I’m sorry, Petunia. It’s going to be a long afternoon. I had hoped she would be in a more agreeable mood by now.”

She waved off his apology and lay a hand on his arm. “It’s alright. You’re her only child, and I’ve got a few strikes against me already. It was bound to be rocky. I’ll do my best to win her over.”

Much easier said than done, she knew. But if there was one thing Petunia knew she had complete and detailed knowledge of, it was the workings of the mind of a middle-aged woman in a mid-life crisis. She was going to slay the beast of Eileen’s displeasure with every weapon at her disposal, and was prepared to dig in for a long, drawn-out battle. Not waiting for Severus to lead the way, Petunia lifted her head up high and entered the kitchen.

* * *

If someone had given him the choice between the tense and awkward lunch he was currently having with his mother and his lover, and being exposed to the Dark Lord as a traitor and a spy, Severus was not quite sure which option would be preferable at the present moment.

Seated at their cramped kitchen table, he realized as he listened to the two women speak that the Eileen that cooked and spoke softly to him in the kitchen and called him her dearest was an entirely different creature than the Eileen that currently sat here and quickly tossed sarcastic and backhanded comments about, in a manner much like Narcissa Malfoy would on her finest gossip day. It was not a trait exclusive to women, as he knew well from watching Regulus and Lucius both, but it seemed to be a skill that many around him had mastered to an exceptionally high degree. He was finding more and more that he wanted to learn it better himself, if only to be quicker witted when it came to his own verbal defense, and to avoid becoming flustered in the heat of a moment as he was prone to do just a small handful of years before. While his temper had greatly improved, and his intelligence was high, Severus knew that his mastery of verbal self-defense and the speed of his wit could still use some work.

While the very tense luncheon with his mother could have gone considerably worse thus far, Severus was still disappointed that at each and every turn, every attempt at small talk Petunia made was invariably met with snide remarks or thinly veiled insinuations by his mother against his lover’s character. Still, Petunia refused to strike back in similar manner, and continued to battle back from the moral high ground. He was proud of her restraint, and extremely unsure of whether he should be speaking up to her defense again as he had initially in the living room. He’d been on the receiving end of both his mother’s and Petunia’s emotional outbursts in the past weeks, and was not keen on again entering the fray and risking both of them being displeased with him at once. In regards to his mother, he thought it might not make any difference at all – she was still displeased with him anyway.

The initial conversation with Eileen had gone a bit worse than he had told Petunia at the time. He had made the mistake of telling his mother rather inelegantly as she was tidying up the living room that he had “accidentally gotten a woman pregnant”. She had dropped the rag in her hand and whirled on him, demanding he repeat himself. Like a fool, he had repeated it verbatim without any attempt to soften the blow. And that was when the books had started to come one by one off the shelf and towards his head. At this point in his life, Severus was a fair hand at dodging things chucked at him, and so none of the heavy tomes had connected to do any damage. What had caused damage instead was what occurred several minutes of screaming and cursing and several dozen thrown books later, as Eileen broke down into tears. Her back hit the wall beside the half empty bookshelf as she slid down onto her bottom and sobbed about the cycle continuing, about her dearest ruining his prospects and having a child young like she had. Severus came to sit beside her at that point, pulling her hands away from her face and holding them till she quieted down. He had lost track of the time it took for that to happen, but it had felt like hours till his mother was able to look at him again with bloodshot eyes and ask that he tell her who the woman he had impregnated was.

He went on to explain as briefly as possible that he had reconnected with the older sister of his former best friend, and that they had been seeing one another. Severus’ mild tone implied that it had been a casual relationship up to now, and that the child was merely the byproduct of a careless night. He wanted to confess the truth of it, that he was passionately in love with Petunia Evans and that while their child was unplanned, it was most certainly not unwelcome, nor was it a byproduct of mindless lust. He loved Petunia, and he loved his unborn child. But the prospect of telling his mother that without Petunia here in front of him for support was daunting.

Worse yet was the idea that he had to eventually bring his mother into confidence about his other line of work, and why he truly spent as much time off with the Malfoys as he did. Severus knew that Petunia was right, and that they needed Eileen’s help and commitment to ensure the safety and upbringing of their child should the worst happen. His mother was not his first choice, after his own childhood. But Petunia was insistent that it could not be her own mother, especially if the child was born with magic. They needed a plan, and soon. Time was not on their side – the war was growing more costly by the day, and he felt the passage of time weighing on his soul, as though he could see and feel each individual sand dropping onto him in the proverbial hourglass. 

“Well. I think I’ve had enough acid-laced sweetness to last a lifetime.”

Petunia’s voice cut through Severus’ increasingly spiraling thoughts and he nearly spat his tea as he watched her set her fork down with a forceful clatter against the scratched and pitted tabletop. He glanced to his mother’s stony face, then back to Petunia’s. Both women had their mouths in a tight set line, and were staring at each other over the table now with arms folded over their chests.

“We’re both grown women. Let’s cut through all the nastiness and address this head on.” Petunia sat up a little straighter, and Severus found himself doing the same. “No matter what I say you’re insistent on being a dreadful host. So let’s just speak plainly instead. You clearly dislike me. I want to hear all your reasons why. You mentioned the childhood bullying earlier, that’s one. Go on.”

Severus watched as Eileen raised an eyebrow and leaned back a little in her chair.

“Where shall I begin then? That you’re pregnant out of wedlock? That you’re both so young, and that my son had opportunities and chances to advance himself in life that he may not have any longer? That I know nothing about you other than you were nasty as a child, and remorseless up till a few years ago? That you’re just a –”

“That I’m just a Muggle?” Petunia interrupted flatly. Eileen lapsed into silence again, and Severus knew that Petunia had struck the true heart of the matter at last. His previously muddled thoughts cleared, and he felt insulted not just for Petunia, but for the child she carried – HIS child. His half Muggle – three-quarters Muggle? – child who he swore he would teach to be proud of its own life and heritage. He knew that he needed to speak up now, his mother’s feelings be damned.

“She’s right, isn’t she mum? That’s why you’ve been so confrontational.”

Eileen turned her face away, hair swinging to cover it in part. Petunia tilted her head slightly, and Severus wondered if she had noticed the similarity between his mother’s and his own habit of hiding their faces. After a minutes-long moment of tense and heavy silence, Eileen hefted a sigh but still did not turn back as she spoke once more.

“Very well. I won’t deny it is a major source of my anger. Severus you know quite well I don’t hold favorable opinion of Muggles. Especially Muggles that were the exact sort I was warned against as a child: unpleasant, controlling, ignorant. The ones who rejected our kind and our gifts, who take of us and use us for their own gain and then leave nothing of us in the end. The kind that persecuted us throughout history and forces us to live in shadows and secrecy out of fear of the unknown!”

Severus shook his head and reached over to take Petunia’s hand in his on the table, in a show of solidarity. While he knew Eileen carried her own burdens in her heart, somehow Severus felt that this had little to do with Petunia, and everything to do with Tobias and the lingering trauma he had caused.

“Mum. I understand the position you’re coming from. I lived through it with you. But you cannot hold that bastard’s actions over Petunia’s head. She isn’t like him, and she hasn’t done anything to you.”

“This is not about your father, Severus!” Eileen snapped, voice hard-edged and teeth clenched so tight Severus thought for a moment they may shatter in her mouth.

“Isn’t it? We stood here in the kitchen and you told me flat out that he had colored your impression of Muggles! It did the same to me, we both know this!” Severus bit back, frustration unable to be contained any longer. He wondered if this was what it was like for others dealing with him.

“I know firsthand what a bad man can do to a good woman’s soul, Eileen.”

Petunia’s voice was so soft as she cut in that Severus had almost missed her words altogether. Eileen too turned to look at the younger woman incredulously. Petunia took her chance to make her point while she had the attention of both mother and son.

“I was in a bad relationship myself. I don’t like the woman I was when I was with my ex. I was not a good person. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be the me I was supposed to be, on my own merit. I love your son. I truly do. But I am not defined by my relationship to him or my pregnancy. I will accept your judgement on my past actions, and I hope to amend them in time. But I will not let you damn me for what I was born as. That’s as bad as that madman running about right now.”

It was as solid of a defense as anything Severus could have thought of. He looked at Petunia and knew he must have a soft expression in his eyes. He looked back to his mother and saw a bit of shame in her face, likely at being caught out and confronted over her blood purist ideas, but beneath the shame he thought he recognized something else: respect. Still, there was curiosity in her gaze as well, but far less malice when she spoke again, addressing Petunia once more.

“And what do you know of the Dark Lord and the state of the Wizarding world?”

“I know that my sister is fighting his forces, at great risk to herself as a Muggle-born witch. I know full well what that monster and his cult are capable of. Because I’m actively fighting against him too. Perhaps not front and center like Lily. But I’m part of this fight too.”

When Petunia looked at Severus then, her eyes flicked down to his left forearm, and he knew immediately what she was asking. They had agreed before that Eileen would need to know the truth. But they were unsure of when they wanted to tell her. Severus was nowhere near ready for this conversation. He knew Petunia was not either. Again, he felt the pressure of the sands against him, felt himself struggling to stay ahead of the crush of time. They were running out of time…

He nodded to Petunia, and closed his eyes as he slowly unbuttoned his sleeve at the wrist, and rolled it up to his elbow. Time was not a luxury he could afford. It could not wait any longer.

Even without looking, Severus knew Eileen was fit to burst in rage. He could hear the ragged breathing, hear her fingernails gripping the edge of the table suddenly, hear the creaking of her chair.

“Severus Tobias. You’d better start explaining immediately or so help me Merlin I will-”

“He’s a spy, Eileen.” Petunia gently explained, as though talking to a small child. “He’s an undercover spy for the resistance group that Albus Dumbledore is leading. And I am his handler I suppose you could say. No one in that group knows that Severus is our man on the inside. An no one even knows that I’m the liaison passing his information on to the Order of the Phoenix except Dumbledore himself, and the Head Auror Alastor Moody. My own sister has no idea about any of this. I can’t tell her, for her own safety. And for Sev’s sake, I have to keep my secrecy.”

Severus finally dared to open his eyes, looking at the Dark Mark on his arm. He wished it were not there, though he knew the vitality of it for the sake of many peoples’ survival.

“I want to hear this. From the beginning. Now.” Eileen commanded. She was facing him, so Severus presumed she meant to hear it from his side. Petunia muttered that she would start up another pot of tea, and stepped away from the table a moment. The kitchen being as small as it was, Severus knew it was not an effort to afford them any privacy, and several parts would require her assistance to retell as well, especially if they were to keep out the nature of Petunia’s involvement, and the circumstances of her unusual time travel that afforded her limited but priceless knowledge in the fight against Voldemort in the first place. Rather, he sensed that Petunia needed to keep herself busy and calm for the task ahead, and this was the best way for her to do so and to also hopefully provide some comfort for himself and his mother after the task was complete.

He turned back to his mother, rolling his sleeve back down and taking a breath before he began.

“It all started around this time actually, two years ago…”

* * *

Petunia listened intently to Severus’ rich voice as he recounted the story from his own perspective, and came in and out of the room several times carrying the biscuits and sweets she had baked into the kitchen and plating them in a way that made them look festive. She felt anything but festive herself as the tea steeped and she tidied up the dishes from lunch, but the gesture still helped her manage the anxiety that was again roiling up within.

Several times over the course of his retelling, Eileen asked questions or for more details, and Petunia was pleased that the woman sounded a little less angry now but no less on edge. When Severus told her of taking the Dark Mark, and the risk he knew he was taking, Petunia had to carefully pour the tea with shaking hands, trying not to cry. She did not shy away from the mark on his skin whenever she saw it, did not react to it at all in fact. She felt that if she did, it would hurt Severus in a way she could not mend. Dumbledore had already confirmed upon examining it in person that it was permanent, and there was no way that he knew of capable of removing the brand. It would be something that her lover would have to live with to the end of his days. While certain spells could help to cover it from being seen in public, and he had even managed to put a glamour over it that hid it from her eyes as well once, Petunia knew that Severus did not feel comfortable with his arm exposed, as **he** still knew it was there.

Every so often she put in a word or two of her own, explaining the incident in Falmouth from her side, mentioning her duties with the Order, explaining that the school owl that often showed up at their home was not a school owl at all any longer, that Dusty was a shared pet between herself and Severus, and later confirming that only Dumbledore, Moody, and Remus knew of her pregnancy prior to them telling Eileen, and that only Dumbledore and Remus knew the identity of her child’s father. By the time that Severus wrapped up the rest of the story with all the relevant information, Petunia had run out of things to do to further stall, and had no choice but the return to the table. She sat down with mug in hand and picked up a little iced gingerbread man to nibble on, hoping it would help settle her stomach.

“I didn’t want to burden you with any of this mum. I had hoped the war would end before I would have to tell you anything about my role in it. But with the baby coming along so unexpectedly and so ill-timed…it forced our hands. Petunia was right. We need your help as well.” Severus was clearly mournful as he took one of Petunia’s hands again. She felt how tightly he squeezed it, and her heart ached for him. It was rare that he let it show through on his face, but she knew from his grip alone that fear was certainly coursing through him as much as anxiety was coursing through her.

“What would you need of me?”

“Your assurance that you would take in your grandchild, should Severus and I be exposed and…well I won’t sweeten it. We could both well likely be killed doing this. But if the worst should come to pass, we both want to know that our child would be cared for. That you would raise the baby and ensure they know the truth about who we were, and who and what they are.” “ _All the things I should have done for Harry and failed to do…”_ she thought to herself in bitter irony.

Eileen regarded them both a long moment, staring first into Petunia’s eyes, then Severus’. At long last, she nodded solemnly. “Fine. You have my promise of assistance. I’d not have my grandchild tossed to the Muggle welfare system like some sort of urchin.”

Gratitude and relief washed through Petunia, but her heart nearly seized when Eileen asked “But why ask me? Is your own mother not capable of raising the child?”.

Severus had asked her the same thing in passing. Petunia alone held onto the grim knowledge that her own mother would be dead before her unborn child’s first birthday. She struggled in vain every day to recall the exact date of the car accident, hoping against hope that perhaps she could interfere and it would not alter the timeline too drastically if she were able to spare her mother from her fate. But if she should not find a way to save her mother, then Petunia needed to prepare as though it was a foregone conclusion. Moody had told her that having one plan was as bad as having no plan, and that having two plans or more was proper preparedness. She of course thought he was being his usual over the top self, but the longer the war went on the more she was starting to agree with the gruff old man.

“Truthfully, as much as I love my mother, I think that you would be a better fit for the task.” Petunia replied as truthfully as she could, omitting the reasoning behind it.

Mercifully, Eileen did not question this further, and the conversation turned finally to lighter topics. Eileen began to enquire how far along with child Petunia was, when she was planning on telling her family and whether she had been experiencing morning sicknesses yet, whether she felt it was to be a boy or girl. Petunia was able to loosen up and ease into the answers, and watched as Eileen began to gradually soften towards her. She knew it would take some time yet before the woman actually _liked_ her, but Petunia felt like this was already far more progress than she had expected to make, and she would take the small victory wherever she could have it. After all, the woman had confessed to disliking her for being a Muggle, and while they had quickly glanced over that matter for more important things, it was something that needed to be aired out in full at a later date. She knew she had to pick her battles carefully for the moment, but she was not going to let the matter rest forever.

The conversation lapsed again after a time, but this time Petunia was ready. She’d been working with Severus on a bit of a secret weapon, and felt it was the perfect moment to use it.

“Eileen, Severus tells me you were quite the Gobstones player in your youth. He’s been teaching me to play with charmed marbles. I don’t imagine you’ve played for some time but would you like a match or two, for old time’s sake?”

The change in the older woman was immediate. Eileen smirked, an uncanny reflection of her son, and sat up in her chair, confidence exuding from her. “I suppose I could demonstrate how a former champion plays the game. But I hope you have no illusion that I’ll go easy on you.”

Severus looked at Petunia with a neutral expression, but she imagined he was questioning her sanity inwardly right now. She simply smiled at him, as Eileen left the table to go find her old set that she said was lingering in the house somewhere.

“You’re a madwoman, you know that?” he shook his head, returning her smile.

Petunia merely shrugged, and bit off the head of another little gingerbread man. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you got involved with me.”

“I did. And I still regret nothing.”

They sat together as they awaited Eileen’s return, and this time, the silence was comforting.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Eileen has been brought into the fold, at least part of the way. As for the other secrets Petunia is holding...it could well be that no one else ever finds out about the very odd nature of her life here. Only time will tell. 
> 
> I'm still alive, hooray! Though I've had the foulest luck this year - this time it's a Carpal Tunnel Syndrome diagnosis which obviously impacts typing, so...Yes. But here we are, edging closer to the next arc of our story! Thank you as ever to all of you for reading, and for your kind words. (If you catch typos as always please let me know and I will correct them, my eyes are tired and my glasses are old!)
> 
> Til next time (in which...well for once actually I'm not sure. We'll either be checking in on both Regulus and Alastor again, or we'll be back with Petunia and the delicate process of telling her sister and her mother she's pregnant - but not telling them by whom. Whichever happens, the other will be next)  
> -TR


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: None for this chapter.

* * *

_6 th January, 1980 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry, The Highlands, Scotland_

The return feast after the winter holiday break was unusually subdued this year. Increasing whispers of war, the slow escalation of Death Eater shows of force, and the rapidly nearing exams seemed to have a more pronounced effect on the students. This was especially true at the Slytherin table, as many students quietly fretted over older friends or family members who were active in the Dark Lord’s expanding spheres of influence. This was the case for Regulus especially, who fretted over his best friend and extended family members every time a letter came from Narcissa or from Severus, or when he heard of Death Eater activity in the Prophet. He wanted to be with them, to watch their backs as much as to participate. But lately, though he felt treasonous for even thinking it in passing, Regulus had to admit that his normal eagerness to be involved with the activity of the inner circle was muted.

He glanced at the Ravenclaw table discreetly over the rim of his goblet, only half listening to Rabastan talking about his holiday break across from him as he looked over the benches for Barty. He spotted the blonde in conversation with his peers, seemingly over a passage that one of them was pointing to in an Arithmancy textbook. The two of them had not spoken much at all since their fight in mid-November, partly from extraordinarily busy schedules as had always been the case, and partly from a lack of effort. The school seemed to know that the couple was still very much on the outs at the moment, as told by the eyes that had followed them the one time their paths had crossed entering the Great Hall earlier that evening without a word exchanged. Even Christmas had come and gone without even a letter exchanged. He had held onto Barty’s gift, which was purchased before the fight. But when Christmas had come round, he lacked the heart to send it. He was unsure of what to say in any case, and when nothing had come from Barty either, Regulus was left to wonder if the two of them had broken up without formally saying so. For Regulus, who was so accustomed to being quite sure of himself, this was agonizing. Previously, he would have had no problem whatsoever with marching over to the Ravenclaw table and demanding clarification. But unlike past relationships, this one with Barty was no mere fling. And as such, Regulus found himself hesitating. He was starting to hate the complicated politics of a committed relationship as the weeks dragged on.

“Reg. Are you listening to a bloody word I’m even saying?” Rabastan complained. Regulus redirected his gaze back to his distant cousin across the Slytherin table from him, and saw that the younger Lestrange brother was pointing at him with a chicken leg clenched in his fist.

“You want the honest answer, or are you sharp enough to figure it out?”

Rabastan rolled his eyes as Regulus smirked at him, and huffed as he tore a chunk from his chicken leg with his front teeth. “Fine, enough ‘bout my holiday.” He declared thickly around his mouthful of chicken. “Since you love to talk about yourself so much most of the time, tell me how your holiday was, Mr. Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.”

“It was just fine, thank you. I spent the whole time being lavished on and attended to.”

It was a bold and blatant lie; he had spent most of the break wanting to rip his hair out strand by strand and being in a spotlight that for once in his life he did not want to be in. Far from soothing him and refreshing his spirits, the Christmas holidays away from school had only set Regulus more on edge. Visiting with his family was even more difficult than normal, since as the new head of the House of Black he was expected to carry himself accordingly. No more carrying on like a child as before, excusing himself from the boring adult conversations to explore the homes of relatives or chat up distant cousins; now he was expected to make small talk and parcel out favor and attention to various branch and associated family members, and expected to handle the business of the family such as settling minor disputes of inheritance and any perceived lapses in the family reputation. It was something he had been prepared for from a young age as it became clearer that Sirius would not be up to the task of doing it. And Regulus had performed admirably to hear Kreacher tell it, but he was utterly, entirely exhausted by it. He had languished through the near-endless festivities and trips, longing and desperate for a few days away from his increasingly batty and clinging mother.

By the time Christmas eve had arrived, Regulus was starting to seriously contemplate just getting on his broom and flying back to Scotland early, Hogwarts Express be damned. But that morning Walburga declared herself too exhausted for any more visits, and took to her bed with the instruction that her son go on ahead to the Malfoy family Christmas gathering to represent them as he should. He had not wanted to leave Kreacher alone to tend to the matriarch on Christmas Eve, but the elf swore to visit him at Malfoy Manor early in the morning and Regulus felt blessedly relieved to have some time to himself, where at least at his favorite cousin’s home he could finally just be himself again with no other responsibilities for a short time.

Arriving by their private Floo connection, Regulus was greeted warmly by a now obviously pregnant Narcissa, who took him into her arms and peppered his cheeks in kisses.

“It’s so good to see you, Reggie.” She near-cooed at him, smoothing the dark cascade of his hair back from his face to kiss his forehead as well.

“Cissy you have no idea how happy I am to be here.” He whined, slumping his head against her shoulder as she hugged him. “It’s been such a drain; these branch families are so uncouth and so petty and it is just so _exhausting_.”

Narcissa sympathetically patted his back. “I know darling, I know. I’m sorry your mum couldn’t make it, but it seems like perhaps you need a break from her anyway. I know how…overwhelming Aunt Walburga can be sometimes, especially if she’s not at her best. You’ve probably had your fill of her.”

“Like you would not believe.”

She held him at arms’ length and smiled at him, then looked behind him as though expecting to see another person. Her brows furrowed and her head tilted in confusion a moment. “Did your boyfriend not come with you? Our invitation was open to him as well."

Regulus felt a pang in his chest. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her what happened, and was a little shy about having a similar reaction regarding Kreacher and his closeness to him. His dear Cissy would surely not have judged him so harshly for being remarkably close to the elf that raised him up, but he knew well her stance that house elves were objects and property and found himself a bit guarded on the subject now, even towards her.

“No. He and I…had a falling out. We’re not really speaking at the moment. He’s just being an idiot. I’m sure we’ll straighten it out when term starts.”

She took Regulus by the arm and pulled him out of the parlor and into the main hall. “Come along then my darling, tell Cissy everything. I know very well how idiotic our men can be sometimes. Did I ever tell you of the row I had with Luci just before we were engaged? It was dreadful, I nearly didn’t forgive him till he showed up at my door with the finest snowdrop bouquet I’d ever seen, begging my forgiveness. He puts on such an act of his dominance, but we both know he’s as tame as a mouse.”

Feeling a bit better already, Regulus glanced over at her. “You absolutely have not told me that story! Go on then, I definitely want to hear this one.”

The pair stepped out to the west garden, and proceeded to talk for the better part of two hours as they walked the grounds together. The idle chatter and the reassurance from his beloved cousin that these things happened sometimes had set Regulus back to rights for the time being, and he felt renewed by the time they eventually stepped back into the manor for supper.

Lucius had finally arrived, and was waiting for them in the private family dining room. He too looked confused for a moment to see Regulus without accompaniment, but Regulus presumed it was a look from Narcissa that stayed the man’s tongue and prevented him from asking about it.

“How was the social, my darling?” Narcissa asked her husband as he pressed a kiss to her mouth. Lucius bent to press a kiss to her stomach in a tender gesture that made Regulus miss Barty all the more, and brought a twinge of pink to the tip of Narcissa’s nose and across her cheeks.

“The social was subpar, as I knew an event by the Ministry would be. But I gathered the information I needed and that is the part that matters. I’ve put in an appearance and pledged another donation to St. Mungo’s, and that’s more than enough for those idiots. How have the two of you been faring? No further troubles with the little one, I hope? And you Regulus, how has school been?”

“No morning sicknesses today, thankfully. I believe the worst of it is past us now, thank you my love.” Narcissa took to her chair, and gestured for Regulus to share next as the men sat down.

Regulus pondered how to respond for a long moment before deciding he would need to let Lucius in on what had occurred, especially if was to question the older man later about Death Eater activity and his boyfriend’s heavier responsibility load than his own.

“School itself is alright. I’m so glad to be nearly done with it. I just want to be rid of it now. My personal life…I’ve had better days I suppose. I had a fight with Barty and we’re not speaking right now.”

Lucius hummed thoughtfully as the elves began to bring their meals to the table. “The perils of young love. I’m sorry to hear that, little cousin. I’m sure the head of the family duties haven’t made that any easier to deal with, correct?”

“Not at all.” Regulus agreed. He set to picking at his meal for a few moments, quiet and mulling how much to say. He did not want to appear weak in front of Lucius, but he also wanted to let his frustrations out to the only other person he knew would have an inkling of what he was going through.

“Lucius? How do you stand it? All the people kissing your arse to get favors, not knowing who actually gives a damn about you and who doesn’t…it’s so draining. Sometimes it almost makes me wish my traitor of a brother hadn’t been such a monumental disappointment so that all of this pressure wouldn’t be on me.” Regulus confessed at last. This surface-level complaint was as close as he would come to admitting to anyone – especially to himself – that since the death of his father he had actually come to miss Sirius, and missed the close bond they had once shared as small children.

The older man set down his fork and pondered the question a moment. “It can be quite draining sometimes, yes. There’s a lot of expectations. A lot of eyes watching you, as the person in a position of wealth and power. I’m afraid that my experience is a bit different than yours. I couldn’t wait for my father to finally die and leave me with the responsibilities as Lord of the manor. While I don’t take pleasure in the constant presence of false and duplicitous people, I do take pleasure in their envy and their silent knowledge that they will never be anywhere near my level.”

Regulus knew that well about Lucius – the man was proud of his status and never wasted an opportunity to flaunt it to those he found lesser than himself. Which was a good deal of the population.

“What do you think I should do to adjust to it then? You’ve had much more practice than I have. I was ready to make myself disappear just from one round of family Christmas visits; I can’t imagine doing all of this full-time after school…”

Lucius gave the boy a small, fatherly smile and poured a bit of wine into another glass, offering it to him. “My advice to you would be to simply take pride in your status. Wherever you go, go with pride that you are the keeper of an old and respected legacy, and that people will always envy you and seek your favor as a badge of glory for themselves. You’ll be graduating in a matter of months, and then free to be your own man making your own decisions for the Black family. You’ve had but a taste of it so far, and with so much on your mind already from school, it’s no wonder you couldn’t stomach it yet. It may be overwhelming now. But I promise you, as you grow older, you’ll learn to embrace the glory of the position you are in, especially once our Lord’s plans are successful. You’ve always enjoyed being the center of attention, haven’t you? On the Quidditch pitch at the very least.”

Regulus couldn’t deny that, he thoroughly loved having everyone’s eyes on him as he flew. “Sort of, yes. Alright definitely yes. You don’t become a Seeker if you aren’t looking for attention.”

“Then consider the world your Quidditch pitch, and yourself the star Seeker. Your rivals will either be looking to unseat you with a bludger, or looking to beat you to the snitch. A very, very select few will be on your team. Most will be less important and beneath you, like Beaters who are meant to protect you from the bludgers, or Chasers who seek to score points towards your victory. Fewer still will be your Keepers, meant to protect your goal as you seek the decisive victory. You must learn who plays what position for you, and who is on your team, and who is an enemy. When you know that, you will have full control over the match. It will be much easier to play the game, then.”

Narcissa nodded in agreement with her husband. “He’s absolutely right, Reggie darling. It’s not easy being the elite of society. It can even be a little lonely at times. But it’s a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. Things will be better soon. And you and I both know from growing up with him that Sirius was so ill-suited to the life he was born into, the ungrateful prat. He never appreciated the gift of his position. I think the family is much better off in your hands. So please, do cheer up.”

Heartened by their support, Regulus smiled and felt a little bit lighter. The rest of their meal passed pleasantly as they chatted about the preparations Narcissa was making for the baby, and the possible names they were floating for the child. He learned that they had settled on Druella if it was a girl, after Narcissa’s mother, or Draco if it was a boy, simply because they liked the sound of it, and liked the imagery of strength and fire that a dragon conjured. Lucius of course stated that he was hoping for a male heir to carry on the lineage, while Narcissa chided him and reiterated that she merely wanted a healthy and strong pureblooded baby. Regulus knew she was ready to be a mother, and felt in his heart that Narcissa would be a very doting and attentive one. He felt a pang of regret in his chest, longing for the kind of mother that he would never have. He reflected on his youth with Narcissa as she spoke of her excitement for her unborn child, and decided that perhaps in a way, he’d had a mother like that after all in his bond with her. She’d always doted on him, and gone out of her way to look after him both before and after Hogwarts. He never knew if he’d be able to adequately express to her just how much she had meant to him over the years, and still did now.

After supper ended, Narcissa excused herself to retire early for the night as the house elves began to set gifts out for the following morning, when more of the extended family would arrive to celebrate the holiday with them. Regulus sat in companionable silence with Lucius in the older man’s private study after that, legs curled beneath him as he sat in the armchair by the fire, as Lucius went over title scrolls and various correspondences at his desk. Though their conversation over supper had soothed him, there was still something left from the fight with Barty that had been clawing at his insides for weeks. Regulus realized that he had a rare opportunity to inquire right now in the privacy of Lucius’ study with no one else around, and decided to take the chance while he had it.

“Lucius? There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you about, but I didn’t think asking via owl would be wise, with the Ministry poking their nose into private mail more and more.”

The blonde glanced up and nodded briefly to indicate that he was listening, then put his face back to the page before him. “Very prudent of you, little cousin. What can I help you with?”

Regulus took a breath as he recalled Barty’s words. “When Barty and I had our fight, he accused me of being too soft to do what needed to be done, as a Death Eater. He said that during the previous summer holiday, our Lord had personally tasked him with extra assignments and that it was no wonder I wasn’t asked to do the same. It was the first I’d heard of it and it hurt me badly that he was keeping that from me, especially for so long. I was hoping…that you could put some of it to light for me.”

He watched as the quill froze mid-line on Lucius’ missive, a blot of ink obscuring the word he had been writing. The quill lowered completely, and Lucius’ shoulders hefted with a heavy sigh as he set the parchment and quill aside. The older man turned to face him, expression seemingly mingled with pity and sympathy. It was, to Regulus’ eyes, the look of an adult who was dealing with a naïve child, as though he had said he still believed in Father Christmas like an idiot Muggle child might. He didn’t like that look one bit, and it put him right back on edge.

“I had wondered whether or not he’d spoken to you about any of it. I hadn’t thought he would, truthfully. He seems the type to keep things to himself for the most part. Well to confirm for you, yes, young Mister Crouch has been tasked with several things by our Lord, including spying on his father and other members of the Ministry he finds himself in proximity to. He’s been gathering a good deal of very useful information for us.”

All of that was information that Regulus was well aware of, and he was annoyed that Lucius seemed to be stalling. “I know about all that. But what other things is he getting tasked with? He made it seem like he had become so important and had been getting trained personally by the Dark Lord.”

Lucius tilted his head from side to side like he was weighing how much to say, or how to phrase it. “Over the summer break he was also invited along on several covert assignments and yes, he has proven himself quite capable. Our Lord is quite pleased with his devotion and how eager he is to learn. To the point that he has begun to take him under his wing, perhaps more than he has taken to Severus even. And we all know how much he favors Severus. Even Bella had to admit she was mildly impressed with how Barty handled one set of tasks with a great deal of eagerness and ferocity.”

Regulus sat back in the armchair and stared at Lucius. Nothing impressed Bellatrix unless the Dark Lord himself did it. He couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be, aside from perhaps interrogation, which she and Severus specialized in. He thought that perhaps Barty was trying to be an Enforcer for the Dark Lord, responsible for interrogating their enemies who were foolish enough to try to spy on them or attack them. The idea made sense, but he didn’t know why there was such a need for secrecy in that case. No one knew the full scope of an Enforcer’s tasks other than the other Enforcers; just as with everything else, the Dark Lord operated on a need-to-know basis to ensure no one traitor could bring down every other Death Eater with them. The Lord was even more protective over matters that applied to the Inner Circle, as these were his most loyal and proven. But what troubled Regulus was that he too was part of the Inner Circle, had been the youngest member to be granted entry to the coveted ranks. Why then was Barty, who Regulus had recruited, trusted with more than he? Was he simply brought in for the sake of his name, for the tie to another powerful pureblood house? He dismissed the thought. He had been more than useful already, and the Dark Lord always treated him with favor. So then why should Barty be singled out like this, and not himself? He felt the sting of the initial fight all over again.

Perhaps sensing the younger man’s distress, Lucius rose from his chair and came to stand beside Regulus, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s not a statement against your talent by any means, Regulus. Some are just better suited to other tasks. Your skills are more akin to mine, your value already proven. Barty comes from a pure bloodline, yes. But he has to work harder to prove himself and earn his place, because of the blood traitors he’s related to. You earned your place by your noble blood and your beliefs. The Dark Lord does not question your loyalty or your ability, I assure you. But you are the head of your family now, and you are vastly more important than Barty is. There’s no reason for you to dirty your hands the way your boyfriend has had to. You are meant for higher purpose. Don’t forget that.”

It should have comforted him. It should have quelled the little voice nagging in his mind. But it did no such thing for Regulus tonight. There was more to the story that he was not being told and he wanted to know what it was and why. Lucius was clearly not going to give him more than he just had, and Regulus knew better than to push lest he upset the man. If Lucius would not give him the answers he really wanted, then perhaps Severus could. He would find a way to get the information, perhaps another meeting in Hogsmeade if the older man had time. He made note to ask Severus when they could next meet when he sent him his Christmas gift in the morning.

Regulus turned his face up to Lucius and smiled, making a show of feeling better. If Lucius could keep things from him, then Regulus too could play that game, and appear untroubled even though he was deeply troubled. Severus had told him before that he should not be so easy to read. Now was the time to put that into practice, and hold his true feelings in closer.

“Thank you, Lucius. I suppose I had forgotten that…you’re right. I feel better about it now.”

The blonde patted Regulus’ head, and returned to his desk. They settled back into silence till it was time for bed at last, and the two of them said their goodnights and parted ways.

The remainder of the holiday break had gone by far too quickly for Regulus’ taste. He had no desire to go back to school and see Barty just yet, but had no desire to stay in his family home either. He’d been mostly silent for the duration of the train ride back to Scotland that afternoon, and had let his fellow Slytherins do most of the talking. It was not till they were filing into the Great Hall for dinner that night that he finally crossed paths with his estranged boyfriend again. Their eyes met briefly, then their gazes fell away from one another as they went to their respective tables. Regulus had been pretending to listen to Rabastan the entire meal, till he had been caught out not paying attention.

“Did you and Crouch make up yet? You’ve been moping about since November.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. He should have known someone would ask him about it sooner or later, but he thought the lack of reaction when he crossed Barty’s path earlier would have been enough to make it clear that he had certainly not.

“No. We haven’t. When he’s ready to stop being a git and apologize, then maybe I’ll listen. Not like I can’t replace him just as easily as I fell in with him.”

It was only partly a lie. Regulus still had his fair share of admirers he could pull at any time he wanted, and replacing Barty in his bed would be simple enough. It was the idea of replacing Barty emotionally that turned his stomach. He’d never felt the way he felt for Barty for anyone else. He loved him, and he didn’t want to have to replace him. But he didn’t fully trust him anymore, and that was where the issue truly lay. He was still far too hurt and far too angry to trust him again, and unless Barty approached and apologized first, he had no intention of speaking to the boy to even start a dialogue.

Rabastan shrugged, and continued to eat, leaving Regulus to his thoughts. The Great Hall began to empty out not long after, and Regulus fell into step beside Rabastan and a few of their fellow seventh years who were discussing the absurd amount of homework they’d had over the break. They were partway down the corridor towards the main entrance to the dungeons when Regulus heard his name.

He turned and found Barty standing a short distance away, his dark eyes intense, his jaw set. Regulus almost thought he looked a little fanatical, reminding him for a brief moment of Bellatrix, just before she launched into yet another rant about mudbloods. The similarity disgusted him, and he shook his head to clear the image before looking at Barty again.

The blonde closed the distance between them as a few other students leaving the Great Hall behind them stopped to watch and whisper. Finally, they were standing face to face, less than a foot apart. It was the closest they had been to one another in over two months.

“What do you want, Barty?” Regulus asked impatiently, crossing his arms and making certain his displeasure was on full display. He had expected that Barty would perhaps cower a little, as he used to do when he was still shy with him, or thought that perhaps Barty would lose his nerve and walk away.

What Regulus was not expecting was for Barty to reach up, put one hand on the back of his head and the other on the small of his back, and pull him forward against his thin frame and into a searing kiss in front of everyone watching. The boldness took him entirely off guard, and he knew the squeal he made was highly undignified and likely to be giggled about for several days among the little Hufflepuff brats that were grouped together and pointing at them now like some sort of sordid romance novel.

Regulus did not quite return the kiss with the same fervor, but he didn’t pull away from Barty either. The moment only ended when Barty pulled away, both of them near-breathless, and whispered against Regulus’ lips in a ragged, almost broken tone “I’m sorry. Please, let me make it up to you.”.

It was the sort of thing that Regulus had been waiting for. Still, though his heart leapt at the prospect of going back to the way things were, he still did not fully trust him yet. He doubted he would until he knew exactly what Barty had been doing for their Lord, and now that he had seen Barty’s anger turned on him once he was certainly wary of it ever happening again.

Nonetheless, Regulus weighed his options and decided that having Barty by his side again would be beneficial in looking into what the other boy had been doing, and would allow him to slowly build trust in his boyfriend again. The matter of his treatment of Kreacher was not something Regulus took lightly, and it was a large part of why he had hesitated to even speak to Barty recently. But perhaps, if he were able to figure out what the real reason was the Dark Lord had not assigned him tasks as well, and if Barty were apologetic enough…perhaps then, he could start to convince Barty that he was wrong about Kreacher. He could not simply forgive Barty for what he had said, and he could not simply forgive that the other had been keeping secrets and then dared to gloat about them to his face. But what Regulus could do was accept the apology that was being offered, and outwardly carry on like nothing had happened, while inwardly taking the time he needed to plan and to observe, and to see if he could fully forgive Barty for his part in their fight. And even if he could forgive, he would **not** forget. It had reminded him of the importance of caution, something he had managed to let himself forget.

He sighed, pulled back enough to look Barty in the eyes, and pursed his lips. “…fine. Guess if you’re going to borderline snog me in plain view of everyone you must be serious about it.” He allowed his lips to loosen into a smile now, and wrapped his arms around Barty’s waist. Barty’s expression immediately softened into one of relief and happiness. He kissed Regulus again, softer this time, and hugged him tight, running a hand down his back.

“I missed you, Reggie.”

“How much?”

Barty grinned as he leaned in to whisper to Regulus, “I’ll show you tomorrow night in the Prefect’s bathroom.”

His lingering feelings of hurt aside, Regulus had to be honest with himself – he had definitely missed the physical aspect of their relationship. He nodded his agreement at the proposition, and Barty’s freckled cheeks glowed slightly with a blush that reminded Regulus of their earliest days together, when their relationship had just begun. They shared another quick kiss, and finally parted ways for the evening. With that settled, it was at least one less thing Regulus had to fret about.

As Regulus settled into his bed a short while later, he mentally put his main priorities in order. He still needed to get to the bottom of what was going on with Barty’s covert assignments and private lessons with the Dark Lord one way or another. He would smile, and play his part, and pretend that everything was entirely fine and that he was no longer upset. He would fully reconcile with his lover, but from now on he would keep the Ravenclaw at arm’s length emotionally. The hurt of the rejection he had felt from Barty’s harsh reaction to his close relationship with Kreacher was not something he ever wanted to experience again. He would not make the mistake of baring his soul that way again, not till he knew that he could completely trust the other boy with his heart once more.

Regulus would not be treated like a child or made a fool of again, that much he swore. He WAS a Black, after all. And Lucius had been right about the weight that name carried. Regulus felt he owed it to himself if to no one else to ensure he was treated with the respect he knew he deserved, and that he was afforded the same chances to prove his loyalty and his skill as Barty or any other Death Eater had. While his enthusiasm for the Dark Lord’s mission had been subdued lately, largely because of his romantic issues and his feelings of inadequacy, Regulus was determined to rededicate himself to the cause and prove that he was just as useful and reliable, if not more so, than Barty or anyone else in the Inner Circle. One way or another, he was going to have the Dark Lord’s – and everyone else’s – attention upon him. Eventually, everyone who mattered would know the name Regulus Black.

Of that, he was absolutely certain.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Regulus has started to realize there's a little more going on than he was aware of. Oh our poor boy is in for quite the rude awakening soon enough...
> 
> A little shorter than I had hoped, and no Alastor this time sadly! But I don't believe in forcing things just for the sake of a character appearance, so as soon as I have more story to tell for Al, he'll be back! 
> 
> Thank you as ever to all of you for reading and for sharing your feedback! I'm sorry I'm so slow at replying to comments these days. I'll try to get back on track with it (and back on track with updates, I hate taking nearly a month with them). I greatly appreciate you giving this story a chance and sticking with me so far. If you catch any typos while reading, please let me know so I can correct them - my old tired eyes appreciate that too! 
> 
> Till next time (in which Petunia tries to tell Lily something without telling her everything),  
> -TR


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: None for this chapter.

* * *

_25 th January, 1980 – Godric’s Hollow, Cornwall, South West England_

With every little strange and unpredictable thing that had happened in the past two years since her return, Petunia supposed that she really ought to have expected her weekend visit with her sister was going to go tits up in a most spectacular fashion.

As she sat on Lily’s couch with one hand resting against the side of her head and the other hand wrapped around what was meant to be a bracing cup of tea, the elder Evans girl vaguely listened to her ranting and raving little sister, wondering how they had reversed their roles and trying desperately to figure out how she was going to get herself out of the enormous domestic mess she had just created.

The evening prior, Petunia had nearly lost her nerve entirely. She contemplated cancelling the trip, but didn’t want to worry Lily further by suddenly changing plans – Lily knew damn well Petunia absolutely abhorred changing pre-arranged plans and would have grown suspicious. She debated simply trying to hide her pregnancy a bit longer by wearing a very loose dress over the weekend, nearly convincing herself that she could take the coward’s way out afterwards and simply send a letter to her sister to declare herself mysteriously pregnant in an act of divine conception. But now that she was about four months with child, Petunia knew there was no dress in all of London that was large enough to hide the rather obvious curve to her normally small stomach any longer. Combined with her lack of piety of any kind, she felt she was more liable to incur the wrath of whatever entity may or may not exist above if she went with that ridiculous idea. And so, resigned to the fact that this weekend was not going to be a wholly pleasant experience, she had set out on her drive down south that morning knowing full well the delicate conversation she would need to have, and dreading it entirely.

After a long drive and several rest stops – she hated her weak-willed bladder and its inability to hold itself more and more with each passing day – Petunia finally parked her faithful little Ford Escort at the outskirts of the village just before the road turned fully to forest. It took a few minutes to gather both her wits _and_ her nerves, but soon she had locked her car up and begun to walk the long and familiar path through the village proper and towards the Potter cottage.

She took the moments of quiet to again go over the answers she had prepared in anticipation of the most likely questions to arise during her sister’s probable freak out, trying to quell her nerves and assure herself that the extra practice in the form of a little mock interrogation with Severus the day before had been enough to prepare her. By the time she opened the Potters’ front garden gate and felt the ripple of the wards letting her pass through, Petunia had talked herself up enough that she felt genuinely ready to face anything they could toss her way. It was not at all going to be easy, she had no illusions about that. But she felt that perhaps with a little finesse and a fair bit of luck, she could hold control over the flow of the conversation well enough to keep both her sister and her brother-in-law calm and off her back about the circumstances that led to her pregnancy, and that would be considered a major victory in Petunia’s eyes.

It was unfortunate that Petunia instead soon found that she had no such luck whatsoever; it all started to go downhill from the very moment Lily answered the door and set eyes upon her sister.

“Tuney! Good to see – OH MY GOD!”

The redhead went wide-eyed, staring at the gentle swell of her sister’s stomach. Petunia pursed her lips together and silently cursed her foul luck. Already, things were out of her hands. Lily reached forward and grabbed Petunia by the arm, yanking her inside the house and slamming the door shut.

“Petunia! What on earth happened?” Lily asked, still staring downwards in disbelief.

“Lily, I would think by now you of all people would understand how this works!” Petunia exclaimed in exasperation, gesturing at Lily’s own baby bump that was only slightly less pronounced than her own; they were mere weeks apart in conception, after all.

“No shite, Petunia! But HOW? WHEN? WHO? Have you told mum? What on Earth-”

Before Petunia could cut in and wrest control of the conversation away from her hysterical sister, James entered the room in a rush, responding to his wife’s audible distress.

“Lil, what’s wrong? Is Petunia alright, what’s the – DEAR MERLIN ANOTHER ONE!” James too went wide-eyed, staring at Petunia’s stomach as though something might burst from it at any moment.

Petunia knew then that all her careful planning had been for nothing. She knew her sister and brother-in-law better than that; the pair of them were creatures of passion and prone to fits of rash decisions and poor judgement as a result. She should have known that trying to account for either of their actions, and counting on them to be _rational_ when faced with something this delicate was a lost cause. Love them as she may, and as brilliant as Petunia knew her sister was, and as cunning as her brother-in-law was, Petunia also knew damn well that the two of them had the emotional maturity of randy sixteen-year-olds sometimes. It startled her to remember a moment later that they were only just barely out of their teens in the first place, as was the father of her unborn child. But Severus operated at a different level of maturity – and indeed at a different level of understanding – than either Lily or James. He may have been just barely twenty, but he had an old soul. Perhaps not quite as literally as Petunia did, but he was on somewhat equal footing with her in life experience now.

“Could we settle down for just a moment please?” Petunia begged, walking past them both to sit on the couch, her feet tired from the walk into the village and already beginning to swell on the daily from yet another awful side effect of carrying a child. She settled herself on the middle cushion and leaned her head back, taking a deep breath and holding it as long as possible before releasing it.

“You showed up at my door pregnant Petunia! So no I can’t just settle down!” Lily began to pace back and forth before the couch, James nearly walking into her as he too approached.

“Tunes…it’s not…it’s not Moony’s, is it?” He asked hesitantly, then busied himself with cleaning his glasses on the sleeve of his jumper and avoiding her eye as though afraid to hear the answer.

Petunia’s head shot straight up, and she could only imagine what look she must’ve had on her face for James to recoil so immediately. “REMUS? Heavens no, James! For the last bloody time, he and I are simply friends! There’s nothing even close to romantic about our relationship, so stop trying to push your little narrative fancy on the pair of us like some sort of old matchmaking widow!”

“I think…I need a drink.” Lily muttered to herself loud enough to carry. She was quiet a moment, put a hand to her stomach, and muttered again, “I can’t have a damn drink…the baby...I need tea!” and without a word to either her sister or her husband, the younger Evans sister swept off to the kitchen. James and Petunia looked at one another, James a bit sheepish at first from the dressing down he had gotten, but from the look that passed between them it seemed they were both in agreement at least that Lily needed a moment to herself to calm down.

When Lily returned, she pressed a matching lilac colored cup and saucer into Petunia’s hands and settled in to the armchair across the coffee table before launching into her earlier questions once more with scarcely a breath between each word. James stood behind his wife’s chair like a palace guard standing watch over the queen herself. The silent devotion was endearing, Petunia had to admit.

Still, she fought the urge to roll her eyes at Lily’s bombardment and took a sip of tea to stall her answers. It was a bit sweeter than she would have preferred, but Lily had always been heavy handed when it came to the amount of honey she added to herbal teas. Petunia thought it ruined the flavor of the ingredients to add more than a single spoon, but she wasn’t about to risk being impolite by rejecting free tea, especially with her little sister already so flustered and out of sorts by her mere appearance.

“I trust I don’t have to explain the birds and the bees to you again, Lily? So, I’ll skip the question of how, since I’d rather not bore you with the details. I’m about four months along, due in late June” – June 23rd she knew with absolute certainty – “so that’s your answer for when.”

She took another sip of tea as Lily and James stared at her expectantly. Her next reply was going to set them both to madness, she just knew it. But Petunia took a deep breath and resolved to treat it like a stubborn bandage just to get it out into the open air and be done with it.

“As for who…I’d…rather not say. Suffice to say I’m in contact with him, and he is aware.”

The expected silence hung heavy over them, thick as a layer of dust on a windowsill. The Potters looked at one another for a long moment, and Petunia felt a pang of longing for Severus’ presence as she braced for the imminent storm of outrage she could just feel was inbound.

Lily turned back to her, and the ranting began in earnest. Petunia groaned and tuned her out as best she could, rubbing at the side of her head and holding on to the remains of her tea. For a moment she too privately wished she could have something stronger, sympathizing with her sister’s earlier remarks. She took another sip of her tea, bringing the cup to quarter full.

“Petunia are you even listening to me!?” Lily shouted, breaking through Petunia’s half-dreamy state. When Petunia looked up and brought her into focus again, Lily had her arms folded over her stomach, green eyes blazing. The situation had gone volatile much faster than expected. But Petunia supposed that was partially her fault for ignoring Lily in the first place. She sat up and leaned down with some effort to set the cup on the coffee table before her, then faced her sister directly once more.

“Truthfully Lils, no. I wasn’t listening to you. Because while I appreciate your concern for me, you can’t exactly undo this so there’s no sense in getting so worked up over it.”

“You show up at my door knocked up with some mystery man’s baby and won’t tell me a thing about him, what do you mean there’s no sense in getting worked up!”

James put a hand on his wife’s shoulder for a moment, then came around the side of the couch to kneel down beside his sister-in-law. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Tunes. If this person…if he hurt you at all, or forced you into anything…I promise you I will find him and I will make him pay. You only have to tell me his name and I’ll handle the rest. I have my ways.”

She had to push down the flash of anger that burned white-hot through her blood in that instant, rationalizing that James was only concerned for her and trying to be a good brother-in-law, rather than questioning her decisions or judgement or her ability to take care of herself. And she knew too that it was not a slight against Severus’ character, as they of course had no idea Severus was even involved. Willing her hormones and her temper to settle, she smiled softly at James.

“No, James. It was nothing like that. Everything has been purely consensual I assure you. I’m just…not ready to come forth with the information.” _“I can’t come forth with the information…”_ she thought immediately afterwards. And it was not just for the sake of her involvement with the Order, but for Severus’ integrity as their spy. Petunia looked down at James, who was looking at her with concern and love in his eyes, a protectiveness she saw when he looked at Lily. That same protectiveness was often turned towards his friends as well, and now included her as well as a part of his family. She appreciated the affection and was glad for their much better relationship in this timeline. But it pained Petunia to admit that the other large reason she could not tell the Potters that it was Sev’s child she carried was for Sev’s safety from _James_ and the other three self-proclaimed Marauders along with him.

For all the growth he had started to show over the past few years, James was still the same man who had tormented the one she loved for so long. She had difficulties reconciling the James Potter who was devoted to her sister and took care of Remus financially and was so kind to her with the James Potter who was arrogant, self-centered, and had made life hell for Severus. And worst of all, he had never been held accountable for his actions nor seemed to show a shred of guilt over what hell he had wrought. She loved her brother-in-law, but some part of her hated him for his lack of ownership over what damage he had done. She wanted nothing more than to take him to task, but knew she had no way to justify doing so. They didn’t even know she still spoke to Severus, let alone had fallen in love with him. It ate away at her insides to know that James was so capable of love, but had been so filled with hate for one person in particular just a few short years ago. Yet Severus had come out of that torment with a stronger will, and despite everything he still willingly protected James too with his actions for the Order. And while James presumably carried his hatred from the past on with him, Severus had managed to overcome his and become the stronger man. The duality of it all drove Petunia mad.

“But WHY aren’t you willing to tell us?” Lily whined. “Can you at least tell us if we know him or not? I thought we didn’t have any reason to hide anything anymore, Tuney.”

In a way, Lily reminded Petunia of a curious child who was upset to be left out of a big secret on the playground. And in a way, that was exactly the case. Petunia felt again a stab of guilt at not being able to tell her. Lily had once more become one of her very best friends, and she hated to keep a secret so monumental from her now that they had repaired their relationship to such a degree. She shook her head at her little sister sadly, slowly, with an air of finality on the matter.

“I’m sorry Lily. But I’m not going to speak further on it. This is my private burden to bear right now. I had hoped you would be a little more supportive in the matter, all things considered.” Petunia knew her tone was a bit frosty, but since she had not been able to steer the flow of the conversation away from this particular point, she had to change tactics. And she decided that if a good old fashioned Evans guilt trip was what it took to do so, then so be it. It seemed to finally do the trick; Lily looked down at her lap with a measure of shame in the hunch of her slender shoulders. James too remained silent for a beat, still knelt before his sister-in-law. Finally, he broke the awkward silence hovering in the air.

“Tunes. You’re family. Of course we’re going to be supportive of you. And if this mystery fellow of yours isn’t going to step up and do his duty properly then we’ll just have to be twice as supportive as normal. You know you’ve got me and Lil, and you’ve got the rest of the Marauders at your back. No matter what comes to pass, you’ve got your family right here. I mean that.”

Again, Petunia felt her heart rend in two. Here was James, offering heartfelt support and unwavering kindness to her. Yet this was the same man who had done so much harm, helped make the strong man she loved into the near-feral boy he was when she first reconnected with him. A part of her felt guilt for showing James any quarter whatsoever. But she wrestled with the thought in her mind that perhaps a man who had done awful things as a teen was not entirely without redeeming qualities, and was not entirely beyond forgiveness. James was still so painfully young; they all were. Perhaps there was still time yet for him to truly learn his lesson, and come to realize and apologize for the things he had done. Perhaps he simply did not have time to do so in her past lifetime, having died so young. Petunia hoped sincerely that he would redeem himself yet. She did, after all, want them to be a family someday.

“Thank you, James.” She replied at last, voice more than a little thick with the roiling emotions still storming about in her heart. She glanced across the coffee table to Lily, who had finally looked up at her again. Petunia swore she could practically feel Lily’s thoughts turning, and she knew instinctively that this little match of willpower was not over. It was not like Lily to let something go when she had really sunk into it. Lily was every bit as stubborn as Petunia was once she was set on something, her rebuffing of Severus’ attempts to reconcile their friendship the strongest piece of evidence to show it. Though she seemed to have let the question lay unanswered for now, Petunia had the sinking feeling it was just a matter of time before Lily put that brilliant mind of hers to work, trying to question and cajole and beg the identity of the baby’s father out of her. Petunia would have to be ready for when she did.

“So have you told mum?” Lily asked at last, back to one of her earlier, safer questions.

Petunia inhaled sharply through her nose, reminded of _that_ unpleasant conversation yet to come. “No. I’ve not told mum yet. But I’m going to just hope that she’s too excited by the prospect of having two grandchildren within a month of each other to really chew me up about it.”

At this, Lily at least looked sympathetic – she too must have realized the telling off that Petunia was due for from their mother.

Seizing the moment to wrest control of the conversation at long last, Petunia cleared her throat and carried on. “So, enough about me for now. Tell me about you. How has the baby been treating you? You’re past your morning sicknesses by now, aren’t you? How has the hunt for a name been going?”

Lily and James both seemed to brighten up at the questions, falling into the glow of soon-to-be parents almost instantly.

“We think we’ve got the names, yes!” James put in excitedly as he got to his feet again, taking up Petunia and Lily’s cups and saucers to spirit away into the kitchen and continuing to talk from the other room. “Harry if it’s a boy! After my grandda Henry, he went by Harry to his friends and family his whole life. He passed in the summer just before I was set to go to Hogwarts, and he was quite old by then. Man was fearless, I tell you. Outspoken, pro-Muggle, stood up for his beliefs and challenged the Ministry – all things I’d want my son to emulate!”

“Have you given any thought to if it’s a girl?” Petunia asked dryly. She knew of course that it would be a boy, that his name would be Harry, and that in her original timeline she had not paid enough attention till the day she and her family were escorted into hiding to finally realize the boy had indeed become all those things that James had wanted him to. Pain lingered in her heart, guilt still following her over the nephew she failed, the nephew that she left behind just as she had left Dudley behind. She had vowed that she would do better this time. She would not allow the boy to be abused or mistreated. She would fight tooth and nail to be the best damned aunt that Harry James Potter could have. And she would ensure – with help of course – that his parents lived to see him grow. With luck, loathe as she was to rely on it considering how dreadful hers had been of late, the Harry that grew up in this time would be a fair bit different from the Harry that she had once known and disdained.

“Rosemary, if it’s a girl. After mum.” Lily replied. She hesitated a moment before asking “What about you? Have you thought of names yet yourself?”

Contrary to what Lily must have been expecting from the cautious query, Petunia smiled softly at her. “Amelia, if it’s a girl. I just love the sound of it. And…Ethan, if it’s a boy. After daddy.”

The sisters shared a smile then, remembering their late father together in silence. They chattered on for a little bit after that, sharing their experiences with their pregnancies. It was surreal to Petunia to be experiencing this now. Her pregnancy with Dudley had been a largely solitary experience, with little support from Vernon other than driving her to appointments with the doctor. But this pregnancy was now a shared event, between Eileen and Severus, Remus, Moody, and now with James and Lily. Something as simple as swapping horror stories with her little sister of mornings hovering over the toilet and odd food cravings they were beginning to feel was a source of joy for Petunia, and she found herself actually enjoying the conversation.

The Evans sisters chatted on throughout the rest of the night about baby things, not even stopping as they cooked dinner together. James mostly listened as he sat with them after the meal had been eaten, keeping companionable silence and keeping their mugs full from a fresh pot of tea. By the time they all went off to sleep, James and Lily to their own master suite and Petunia to one of the guest rooms, the tension of before had faded away entirely, leaving a tentative calm in its place.

Though the day had not started as planned, Petunia was pleased with how it had ended. She held onto hope that the rest of the weekend would pass without further issue. As she settled herself into bed for the night, Petunia’s thoughts turned to her unborn baby. She set a hand to her stomach, wondering as she often did what her baby would be like. Her thoughts then naturally turned to the baby’s father, though she tried to keep the worry from her heart tonight. She could only hope that Severus was having as uneventful an evening as possible. Perhaps even the Dark Lord did not like to operate in the dead of winter, she told herself. And this late January chill had been worse than years past that she could remember. Petunia hoped that Severus was at home, tucked into the corner with a book perhaps, with no pressing tasks to complete for the Order or the Death Eaters. The image of Severus with a dark-haired child sitting in his lap as he read from a book while she sat nearby caught in her mind’s eye, and before she knew it, Petunia had drifted away with it into a soothing, much-needed night of sleep.

* * *

_25 th January, 1980 – The Hog’s Head Inn, Hogsmeade Village, The Highlands, Scotland_

The more time went on, the more Severus was starting to believe in the old Muggle expression that there was no rest for the wicked. It was a cold, drizzly night in the dead of winter, and yet here he was, crouched uncomfortably at the keyhole of an upstairs guest room, cloak still damp from the rain-wracked trudge through Hogsmeade to get here, only to have to suffer silently through both sides of what had to be the most dreadful staff interview in Hogwarts history.

His summons had come earlier that evening, as he had sat with his mother in the living room, scribbling recipe notes into his favorite notebook for several potions of his own creation as Eileen read the Prophet across from him. Grimacing as he clutched at his now-burning forearm, he calmly informed Eileen that “duty” had called. The woman folded the paper cleanly in half, looked up at her son, and nodded tersely. Severus found himself strangely grateful that his mother was in his confidence now. With so much sneaking around as part of his official business on both ends, it was nice to not have to sneak about in his own home or make excuses for his absences anymore. Eileen bid him to be careful, and he could see the lines of worry on her furrowed brow despite her neutral tone. The unfortunate downside of having his mother in his confidence now was that her worry had increased tenfold for him. Still, she knew the importance of his work and did not impede him. He pressed a kiss to her brow before pulling on his cloak and stepping out into the cold and dark of the night. He knew exactly where he was to go, straight to Voldemort’s private quarters – a perk, if he could call it that, of being held in the Dark Lord’s highest regard and under his personal tutelage in the dark arts – and soon enough Severus stood once more with the Dark Lord in private audience.

The orders he was given that night were simple – to eavesdrop upon Albus Dumbledore, and bring back any information that may help take him and his Order of the Phoenix down. The Dark Lord had been told by some source or another that the headmaster was conducting some private business away from the safety of Hogwarts, and his informant had thought that it may have been related to the war. Severus was no stranger to spying for Voldemort by now, as part of his duties often involved subterfuge, subtlety, and sometimes ended in interrogation and or worse. Voldemort had entrusted Severus personally with several assignments to keep an eye on his allies and enemies alike, and Severus had proven himself more than capable. And so, the Dark Lord’s trust in him had only continued to grow stronger. Yet the irony of this – of being asked to spy on Dumbledore for Voldemort _for Dumbledore_ \- was amusing in a darkly satisfying way. He accepted his assignment with the expected level of enthusiasm and gratitude to the Dark Lord for the opportunity, and departed for Hogsmeade.

Calling the Hog’s Head an inn was far too generous, Severus thought with disdain as he stepped inside. The place looked to be barely standing upright, dust lingering on most surfaces as the handful of mostly middle-aged men and one old crone spread around the pub looked into their foaming drinks. The clientele all appeared to be of common working-class stock, and if he had not been in the sole wizarding village in all of England, Severus would have sworn they were all muggles fresh from their shifts at some factory or another. His skin crawled as he thought of his father. It was the type of place a man like Tobias Snape would have frequented, a place as bereft of decency as the man himself was. Chiding himself to focus on the task he had been given and wishing he could have passed a message to the Headmaster through Petunia first, Severus eventually approached the bar where the keep was arguing loudly about the greatest Quidditch players of all time with the patron in front of him. The two men looked at Severus like he was a troll when he approached and interrupted to order the meal of the night. After a few grumbles, the keep handed him a bowl of what Severus assumed was supposed to be a sort of stew and a chunk of stale bread. He felt no better than an orphan in a muggle story as he took his meager meal and seated himself at a table nearest to the stairs. Again, he was reminded of his youth, where even something like this would have been welcome for his oft-empty belly. It really wasn’t all that long ago that hunger was something he often had to work through. The changes in his life over the past few years had made him feel like a much, much older man than his twenty years should have allowed.

Not quite brave enough to sample the meal before him, Severus instead did what he did best, and observed the room while pretending not to. The keep was once more arguing with his patron, and continued to do so for some time, not even looking up when at long last the Headmaster entered through a rear door, and walked past the bar with nary a word to the keep. Severus kept his head low, bowed over his soup bowl as Dumbledore passed him and walked up the stairs. He wondered if the older man had noticed him sitting there at all. Dumbledore had a way of knowing things that he should not, and it would not surprise Severus if his presence was noticed by the old wizard.

He waited for five minutes, counting it out in his head silently before sliding away from the table as quietly as possible. He gathered his still-damp cloak to his body, careful to keep it close to him as he rounded the corner to the stairs and made his way up slowly, gingerly touching his foot to each step. He had not heard any of them creak when the headmaster had passed behind him, but he could ill afford to grow careless now. Finally, Severus reached the landing and found himself in what was supposed to be a sitting room for the guests of the inn. The fireplace was empty, a chill sweeping through the room that boasted a window that looked over the street, the dusty doxy-eaten curtains closed tight. The only thing that was clean in the entire room was the portrait of a young woman with sad eyes, a young girl really, perhaps no older than thirteen or fourteen years. She reminded Severus of Ravenclaw’s own Grey Lady in a way he could not explain.

Moving down the short hallway from the sitting room, Severus looked at the guest room doors, wondering which one had now been occupied. He decided that the first was as good a place to start as any, and pressed an ear to the door. He heard nothing, and moved on to the next door. Here, Severus heard the faintest lingering of a high-pitched female voice. He got down on one knee and saw now an open key hole beside the doorknob. It was too small to see in through, but not too small to hear through he discovered. The sound from inside was still a little muffled, but he could hear fairly clearly as chairs scraped across the floor from inside and there was a clatter of what sounded like beads or metal rushing softly against cloth. It was surprising that Dumbledore did not cast any silencing on the perimeter, especially if he was supposedly going to discuss business of the Order with this contact.

Severus knelt there and listened intently, already trying to figure out how he would disseminate the information he gathered tonight to Voldemort without jeopardizing the Order, always the most difficult part of his duties. Absorbed as he was, it was a shock to the system when he heard a woman’s voice, a little raspy and wrapped in self-importance and exaggerated mystery.

“As you know, headmaster – I, Sybill Trelawney am of the line of the legendary Cassandra Trelawney, my great-great grandmother to whom I owe my knowledge into the unknown! The Sight has often told me that my calling was to educate younger witches and wizards in the ways of the arcane!”

There was a brief pause and throat clearing, and then the Headmaster’s voice replied as calm and seemingly unflappable as ever, “Ah, yes, Miss Trelawney, you have made that known several times now. A pleasure to finally meet you. Now as I mentioned in our correspondence, the study of Divination has fallen rather out of favor in this day and age, and I had planned to discontinue its teaching at Hogwarts. But your interest in the position has earned you this interview. Shall we begin then?”

Severus raised a brow. This so-called important business was a job interview for a branch of magic that had been old hat for the past three generations? He wondered who had given the Dark Lord such awful information about this meeting, and what standing they must have held to convince their mutual master that this was even worth his time to investigate to start with. Still, irritated though he may be, Severus also had to concede that perhaps this was a front, and the real information would be passed in earnest after they ensured they were alone, or perhaps would be coded.

An hour later, Severus knew he’d been had. Perhaps not intentionally, but whomever had informed Voldemort of this meeting had managed an elaborate prank without trying. How the headmaster had maintained composure through the melodramatic tripe this woman had spewed after each question, Severus would never know. She was clearly possessed of none of the skill of her ancestor, and was apparently possessed of _no_ skill in his opinion.

“Well. While this was very informative about the art of divination, Miss Trelawney, I don’t quite think you’re the right fit for this position.”

Severus felt relief flood his tired body, getting ready to stand up. A little squeaking sound caught his attention as he shifted his weight, and he looked down to find a rather chubby rat with very watery eyes looking up at him with what he could swear was contempt, if a rat was capable of the emotion. He raised a hand to shoo the vermin away when he heard a long intake of air from inside the room and swiftly turned his attention back to it. He turned his head to the right this time, trying to work the ache from his shoulders and neck as he listened.

Trelawney’s voice was deeper now, more assured as her words came through crisp and clear.

**_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...”_ **

“What the hell are you doing up here, you sneak? And a bloody fat rat beside you! C’mere.” came the gruff voice of the barkeep from the left. Severus jolted, wondering how the hell the man had snuck up on him. He must have been so absorbed in the sudden change in the conversation that he missed him entirely while his head was turned. He turned to face him, face red as he rose to his feet. The keep was holding the chubby rat by its worm-like tail, and the animal was squirming violently. Before Severus could brush past him, the keep had grabbed him too now, by the shoulder with a firm hand that was far stronger than it should have been. Memories of his father’s hands flared up within him and he tried to keep his composure.

“Get your filthy hand off me!” Severus bit out through gritted teeth, pulling his shoulder back. He could not break the man’s grip on the first try and felt a flash of fear in his stomach. He swallowed it down as the barkeep dug his nails in now, trying to hold onto Severus’ shoulder through his cloak.

“What were you doing, eavesdropping on my guests!?” the keep shouted now. He started to pull at Severus, only to withdraw his hand and make a roaring noise of pain as the chubby rat writhed close enough to bite at the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. The keep dropped the rat to the floor, and the rat quickly scurried down the lower part of the stairway railing. In the midst of the chaos and likely from the keep’s foul mouth that was still going off, the door swung open and Dumbledore looked out with concern. The woman in the room with him sat in the chair facing the door, large eyes peering out at the men outside the room. Severus noticed that she seemed disoriented before he turned his eyes onto the headmaster. Dumbledore looked down at him, but his face gave away nothing as the barkeep grabbed Severus once more.

“I went the wrong direction looking for the loo, if you must know.” Severus muttered lamely. He knew it was a poor excuse when he’d been caught outright with his ear to the door.

“Come on, out with you! No snooping and spying in my establishment! Out!” the keep roared once more, still nursing his rat-bitten hand as he pulled Severus towards the stairs and pushed him roughly in the back to get him moving. Severus did not risk glancing back as he tromped down the staircase, the barkeep following him down and brow-beating him the entire time for sneaking about.

He stepped out into the now misting rain and resisted the urge to flip a rude hand gesture to the brutish barkeep, and began to walk down the street. It was not till Severus was halfway to the village apparition point that he began to go over the last thing he had heard.

“The power to vanquish…born as the seventh month…born in July…” he muttered to himself. Slowly, the pieces pulled themselves together in his mind, and Severus felt deeply ill.

A few members of the Order were pregnant right now. Petunia herself was one. Alice Longbottom, another. And the third, of course, was Lily. Lily, who he knew from Petunia’s own admission had died in another life protecting her son – born in late July – from Voldemort himself. The Dark Lord would not have targeted Lily and James if he did not believe that their child was the key to his destruction. Thoughts spinning, Severus wondered how the Dark Lord even knew, and felt another wave of sickness threaten to take him to his knees. There was a truly awful idea that he now had to contend with, and he could not, try as he might, dismiss the notion from his mind. He could only presume he had gone on with joining the Death Eaters gladly and willingly in the world from whence Petunia had come. Had he himself been the one to hear these words the first time? Had he, in another world – a world without his mother’s newfound support, a world without Petunia’s life-changing love, and without Regulus’ deep and genuine friendship – had he himself sent Lily and James Potter to their graves with his foolish and blind devotion to a madman? He wondered if Petunia had known, but dismissed the idea. How would she have been able to tolerate him if he had, let alone fallen in love with him? She could be forgiving yes, but that was something that he could never forgive himself for, let alone expect someone else to forgive him if it had in fact been his fault the first time around.

He took a deep breath and fought off the dizziness threatening to consume him. He still had ways around this. He did not have to report back to Voldemort tonight. He would be expected to report to him the next day. It gave him more precious time to plan and to prepare for whatever he was going to tell the Dark Lord he heard. Even if he told Voldemort the purported prophecy exactly as he heard it, he did not have to mention that Lily was pregnant. He would not be expected to even have that information, so there was no harm in not offering any suggestions as to who the child in question could be. At any rate, there were sure to be tons of witches pregnant now who would deliver in July. It would take a considerable time to parse all the possibilities out and narrow them down, as it was sure to be a very tall task even for the Dark Lord. There was still too the chance that the child’s birth may change by a day or two, and perhaps he would be born on the first or second of August instead and Petunia’s prediction that he would be born on the 31st of July as before would be incorrect. It was not all hopeless, and there was still a chance to protect the Potters. Regardless of what had happened in the past that Petunia came from, this was a different time and they were a team, working together with Dumbledore to prevent just such a thing from happening again. He was confident that this was merely a small hiccup in the road, if he played his cards the right way. More than anything, Severus wished that he could go to Petunia now, and tell her what he had overheard and plan out their next action together while curled together on her couch under their favorite blanket. But she was away with her sister for the weekend and already facing the unpleasant task of revealing her own “mysterious” pregnancy, and there was no way to contact her without making matters even worse for her, or putting himself at risk as both a spy and her unborn child’s father.

Severus continued to walk in the cold, taking a lap around the outskirts of the village and walking all the way back up the small hill to the train station, hoping to settle his mind and his nerves before making the attempt at Apparating home. He was finally set to, when one last wayward thought drifted across the forefront of his mind: someone had informed Voldemort of Dumbledore’s movements this evening. Which meant that someone with access to Dumbledore was also working for the Dark Lord. Someone with close enough access to know the headmaster had business outside of the school. That person perhaps did not know the exact nature of that business, and thought they had stumbled on valuable information to gain more of the Dark Lord’s favor. Whether they knew it or not, they had provided key information inadvertently when the hack of a Seer had what was presumably a real vision. This person had to have both access to the Headmaster, and enough of his trust to be near enough to overhear about this meeting. Severus doubted it was any of the staff at the school, as Dumbledore had hand-picked many of them over the years and they were all clearly anti-Voldemort and anti-blood purity during his schooling. That left a far more likely – and far more frightening possibility instead:

There was a traitor amidst the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Petunia's secret is out - part of it anyway - and Severus has had a revelation of his own. It's all going downhill from here unfortunately...
> 
> Thank you as always to everyone for reading and for your comments, I promise I will get back to everyone in time now that this most recent update is done! I'm still so sorry they're taking so long, but I can only hope that the content is worth the wait when it comes. Thank you for your patience and your kindness! 
> 
> Til next time (in which more shit hits the fan for...pretty much everyone at this point honestly),  
> -TR


End file.
